


Undeniable

by bazinga01



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 196,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazinga01/pseuds/bazinga01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>{THIS STORY HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED.} Rachel is just starting at NYADA and Quinn is at Yale. Explores the evolution of their relationship as they share their experiences of being freshmen in college while 80 miles apart. Established close friendship from senior year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There's this moment of terrifying clarity when she realizes that she is actually on her own now.

It honestly hadn't hit her the past couple of days. They went to orientation and checked her into her dorm and helped her unpack some of her boxes.

But her dads are on their way to the airport now, and so she's lost her crutch.

She is officially a freshman in college. She's at NYADA. She's made it to New York City.

She's never felt more terrified of what the future holds.

She thought the hardest part would be during senior year. The agony of waiting to see if you've been accepted to your first choice school. And then the second round of agony that no one warns you about where you sit between your parents at the kitchen table and stare at your financial aid package that just arrived to accompany your acceptance, and you try to see if there's any possible way to actually  _do_  this.

That was supposed to the hard part. Getting here.

She's been so focused on the getting here part of it all that she never stopped to think about  _this_  moment. The moment when her dads are gone away in a taxi and her roommate's stuff is in the room but the girl herself is nowhere in sight, and the chatter of students in the dorm just sounds like white noise because her brain is stuck on an infinite loop of  _what do I do now_.

She feels pathetic for even thinking it. This is the start of her dream and she should be radiating happiness, not allowing nervous tears to collect around her eyelashes. Her chest feels like it's constricting a little bit and all the niggling worries that have trailed her from a distance throughout the summer now attack with full force.

What if no one likes her?

What if her professors hate her?

What if she was supremely talented in Lima but is just average at NYADA?

What if her roommate hates her?

What if no one invites her to social gatherings?

What if it's just high school all over again, except instead of slushies it's just brutal insults about her inadequacies?

She grabs her cell to text to the one person she knows she can count on to yank her out of her own panic and insecurity. It takes her a moment to formulate what to even say, and she deletes five different sentences before finally just typing.

_My dads just left_.

It takes less than two minutes, and there's a chime to notify her of an incoming message.

_**Where are you at right now?**_

She fires off a quick reply.

_In my dorm room. It appears that my roommate has already moved in, but she's not here right now._

She only waits a moment before sending an additional message.

_This is pathetic. I'm sorry. This just…got really overwhelming all of a sudden_.

_**Get out your laptop and log on to skype.**_

She only questions her for a moment before complying, and the little green checkmark by her name is illuminated for less than thirty seconds before the chimes begin and indicate that she's got an incoming call.

"I feel like such a loser," she states quietly as she settles her mac onto her bare mattress.

"Stop that nonsense now." She hears a voice reprimand her and then suddenly there's a live video of Quinn filling up her screen. "Now tell me what's going on."

"I-" she cuts herself off when she notices Quinn's surroundings and that she's got headphones on. "Why are you in a coffee shop?"

"Orientation has been insanity, and I just needed to get away from all the people for a little bit. You know how I get with large crowds after a while."

"Yeah. Maybe someday the rest of the world will finally pick up on the fact that you're an introvert."

Quinn smiles lightly and ducks her head a little as she runs her index finger around the lid of her coffee cup.

"Okay enough chit chat. Tell me what's up, Rach. You said your dads just left recently. What's goin' on?"

Rachel takes a quick glance at the boxes around her room and the bare walls. "I guess it's just weird. I didn't expect to feel this way. But now that my dads are gone, I just feel incredibly nervous and self-conscious and if I had someone to turn to here I  _would_  but-"

"Hey hey shh calm down it's alright," Quinn cuts off the onset of a full out Rachel Berry rant. "I'm guessing all those bags and boxes behind you are yours, right?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. So here's what you're going to do. You're going to open up that window that I see on the wall next to you to let in some fresh air, and then you're going to start unpacking while I blab to you about my first say of orientation. And I'll watch you unpack and you can tell me what you're working on and rant about proper poster placement. Okay?"

She closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. This is why she texted Quinn. Because she knew she could count on her to calm her down within minutes.

Senior year had really been a turning point for them. It started out as kind of a fiasco with Quinn's whole pink hair I-want-my-baby-back simmering hurt and rage that she had going on. Then it evolved into this awkward situation of two people who wanted to be civil and establish a friendship, but neither knew how to accomplish this with the three prior years of torment, somehow impossibly interwoven with mutual admiration, hovering around them. Everyone just assumed Quinn was fine after sectionals, but the reality is that emotional scars run much deeper than that and it wasn't as simple as a trip to the salon to revert back to sunshine blonde. Somewhere along the way, their awkward tentative friendship became less awkward and much less tentative, and soon Quinn found herself confiding things that she never thought herself capable of sharing.

When graduation came, Rachel knew that her pride in Quinn as they announced her as valedictorian and informed the audience of her plans to attend Yale was genuine.

Summer was when everything really turned into the type of friendship that Rachel had always longed to have with someone in high school. Somewhere between afternoons spent tanning by the pool and late night apologies about past behavior while lying out under the stars, they had become incredibly close.

She remembers a particular night when Quinn was fast asleep in her bed and snoring softly, while she fearfully googled the exact distance between New Haven and New York City. She can still recall the relief that overcame her when she saw that they would be less than 80 miles apart from each other. At that moment, she realized just how important Quinn had become in her life. She was her person. Her confidante. And she refused to lose her when they parted ways at the end of the summer.

"Q?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"What, for forcing you to unpack your crap? By the way, how many boxes did you  _bring_?"

"You know what I mean, Quinn. And I'll have you know that I packed incredibly efficiently. I just happen to own a lot of things that are necessary to my success here at NYADA."

Quinn takes a sip of her latte and peers at the jumble of possessions stacked precariously around Rachel. "Oh, and I suppose your purple piggy bank is crucial to your success in the city?" she teases as she eyes the ceramic pig sticking out of one of the open boxes.

"Obviously. What if I order take out and then realize that I don't have any cash on me? The money I store up in that pig will save me the embarrassment of admitting to the delivery man that I have no way of paying him."

"You are absolutely absurd sometimes." It's said with no real malice, and they both laugh a second later.

"Uh huh. You bet I am. I know it's secretly why you keep me around though. You adore my insanity." She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly and then sticks her tongue out at the camera.

"Among other things. Now then, less chit chat and more unpacking. Or I guess, just as much chit chat, but more multi-tasking."

For the first time since she got there, she actually feels genuine motivation to get her life unpacked and settled. And as more things are set up and put into place, the space starts to feel like a place of comfort, like it's  _hers_. But that could also just be because of Quinn's hilarious commentary on the types of students at her orientation. She doesn't even realize how much time has been passing as she continues to converse with Quinn and the number of empty boxes piles up.

"And did I tell you that the Wicca group tried to recruit me? I mean, what do they even  _do_? Do they cast spells? Or is it just like, getting in touch with nature stuff?"

Rachel's laugh echoes in the room as she hangs up another one of her sweaters in the closet. "I don't think that's quite how it works, Quinn. I think there's a lot more to it than that. So what did you tell them?"

"I said 'organizations like this make Jesus cry'," she answers with a straight face.

"You  _didn't_." Rachel looks horrified until Quinn bursts out laughing.

"No of course I didn't. I'm not my high school sophomore self anymore. I actually just told them that I'm from small town Ohio and have no idea what this even entails so I'd have to give it some more exploration and thought."

"My how you've grown, Ms. Fabray."

"Oh shut up! If I was in your room right now I'd throw a pillow or something at you."

"I don't doubt that."

"So you've told me all about orientation, but you haven't told me about your dorm. Have you met your roommate yet?"

"No, I haven't actually. I was one of the earliest people to move in, because I wanted to beat the rush. And I didn't unpack much. I left shortly after I dropped it all off. I decided people watching sounded more interesting than unpacking."

"So which one of us do you think is going to have a weirder roommate?"

"Oh, definitely you."

"What! I resent that Quinn Fabray!"

"It's practically karmic retribution though. All those years as an only child and raised by two loving parents. You've lasted eighteen years without having to live with any annoying or inconsiderate people. You're overdue."

"Stop it, Quinn! Now you're making me nervous." Her voice begins to get increasingly shrill.

"No, shh I'm just teasing you. I really do hope you get a good roommate. Honestly, Rachel. Same for me. I mean, at least your roommate can't be that unpredictable. You're in a school full of people all studying very similar things."

"Yeah, but NYADA neighbors New York Institute for Art and Design, so they share dorms. Technically, I could get a roommate from the art school. And you know how much personalities differ amongst arts students so stop generalizing."

"I didn't know that you shared dorms with art and design. That could be kind of cool, actually. Oh hey, Rach, my battery is dying so I better get going. Plus, I should probably get back to unpack my stuff and actually introduce myself to my roommate."

"Okay, well thank you for this Quinn. I'm probably going to text you again tomorrow when I start getting self conscious about meeting people. But I guess I'm just taking it a day at a time. And you definitely helped me out this afternoon."

"Of course. You know I'm here whenever you need me, Rachel. Always. And try not to worry so much about tomorrow. Just think about the fact that you're in a place where a  _lot_ of people share your interests and your passions. You're not the odd one out anymore. You can rant about the West Side Story revival and no one will mock you. You're going to be great. I know it."

"You know, for a best friend, you can be kind of perfect."

"Only kind of?"

"Mhmm I know how competitive you are. Can't let you off that easy. Gotta give you something to aspire to."

"Uh-huh. Well, text me later when you find out about your roommate because I want to know. Just the basics. And I'll text you about mine too. Then we'll skype in the next couple of days and catch up in detail."

"Sounds good! Love you, Quinn."

"Love you too, Rach. Bye!"

_Call ended. 2:27:15_

After she powers down her laptop, Quinn sends off a quick text.

_**Not even 3 hours. I think we've gotten a lot better about limiting our call times.**_

When Rachel receives the text, she laughs. Compared to that time when they were on skype for 11 hours, they  _have_  gotten a lot better.

She looks up and admires her Funny Girl poster placed perfectly symmetrically over her desk, empty boxes strewn around her feet. She's still nervous, but she knows she going to be okay.

She is Rachel Barbra Berry, and she is at NYADA because she  _deserves_  to be there.

And she's got the most wonderful friend that anyone could ask for to remind her of that on the days when she has trouble reminding herself.


	2. Chapter 2

A little while later and Rachel is now organizing her unpacked belongings and switching her iTunes over to the Passion Pit album. Not many people know that she actually does listen to music other than soundtracks and Celine. There's a certain comfort in having a drastically different genre of music that she can turn to that has nothing to do with musical theater. Where she can just enjoy the ways that sounds interlock and melodies flow, and she doesn't think about anything except the way that her mind responds to the noises.

Right now, she doesn't want to think about her future in musical theater or tonality or pitch. She just wants noise. Noise that makes her happy. And noise that reminds her of Quinn. Passion Pit is something that Quinn recommended at the beginning of the summer. She'll claim to listen to alternative stuff, but she'd never lie and say that she would have listened to this on her own if it weren't for Quinn.

And maybe that's part of why she likes it so much. Maybe it's less about the electronic sounds twirling together, and more about the fact that whenever she listens to  _Moth's Wings_  she thinks of sharing headphones with Quinn and staring at the clouds in the late afternoon sun.

" _You come beating like moth's wings, spastic and violently_ …" she softly sings along as she contemplates how she wants to organize these three square feet of space that the college claims to be a closet.

" _Who's side are you ooonnnnn? What side is this anywayyy…"_ She throws her arms above her head and does a little twirl towards her bed to start putting the sheets on now that she's unpacked her mattress pad.

While she's standing on her toes leaning over the mattress and trying to get that last corner covered, she hears the door click open behind her.

"Ooh, Passion Pit! I like you already."

She quickly spins around to face the girl standing in her doorway.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume that you're my roommate. My name's Naomi." The young woman holds out a hand to shake, and Rachel snaps out of her silent reverie to shake her roommate's hand.

"Rachel. I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry." She can't seem to make proper eye contact, because she's too distracted by the girl's head.

The girl just laughs. "Purple seemed like a good move for me. I had it white blonde for a while, but that got kind of old."

Her roommate has bright purple hair, stylishly gelled into a perfect faux hawk at the top of her head. The rest of her hair is cropped short around the sides. It's incredibly distracting.

"Why purple?" It's the first question that comes to mind.

"Because color is what gives personality to the world. Purple seemed good for my personality. Also, it helps me get along with the hipsters." She laughs lightly at herself, clearly indicating the edge of sarcasm to her comment.

"So are you at the art school then?"

"Yep. I paint. One of my friends once described my art as Monet on acid. I don't know how much I agree with that, but I think it's the closest anyone's ever gotten. I do impressionist-type works but I tend to use super bright clashing colors. I have a thing for color." The girl smiles and sets her messenger bag down on her bed. Rachel notices a couple of pins on her bag, and notes the interesting graphic tee that she's wearing as she shrugs off her sweatshirt.

Naomi is definitely not what she was expecting in terms of roommates, but the girl does seem to be friendly and so she feels some of the tension leave her body as they make small talk.

"I'm guessing you're at NYADA?" Naomi asks as she sits cross-legged on top of her comforter.

"Yes, I'm a NYADA student. I'm majoring in musical theater. I've been singing since before I could walk, and it's always been my dream to live in New York City."

"Musical theater, huh? Then, don't take this the wrong way, but why on earth are you listening to Passion Pit? That does  _not_  seem like the type of music that someone with your musical interests would listen to."

Rachel can't help but smile because she knows that if it weren't for Quinn, this would probably be true. Instead she just settles on saying, "Sometimes I need to listen to something that has nothing to do with my long term goals and interests."

"Well, you won't hear me complaining. I can get my classic musical soundtrack jam on when necessary but I tend to have a much more modern and eclectic taste in music."

"So where are you from, Naomi? And how did you end up here in New York?"

"I grew up in Portland, Oregon. Spent my whole life there. My mom raised me. My parents were never married. I'm in love with Portland, and I know I'm going to miss it like crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if I end up moving back there at some point in life. As for New York, I submitted some of my work for a national competition the summer between my junior and senior year. It ended up getting selected to be featured in a modern art museum here, and one of the admissions people saw it when they visited. They've been scouting me ever since. It just seemed like the perfect opportunity to go out and experience something different, ya know? I think for most artists it's impossible to not be a least a little drawn to this city. Any kind of artist, musicians included. I'm sure you get what I mean."

"Oh yeah, I definitely do. Of course, there's only one true Broadway, so that limited my options. But I totally understand the appeal of the city itself from an artistic perspective."

"So what about you? What's your story?"

"Umm. Well, I'm from a small town in Ohio named Lima." Naomi just gives her this look like  _are you serious_. It's not mean, or even judgmental; it's more like,  _definitely didn't see that one coming_. "But, I didn't have the normal suburban Mid-western upbringing that a lot of my classmates did. For one, I was raised by my incredibly liberal dads. Plus-"

"Wait, hold up. Did you just say dads? As in more than one?"

Rachel immediately tenses, and her guard goes up. After eighteen years in conservative Ohio, it's just second nature. "Yes. I have two fathers who are very much in love, and hired a surrogate because they wanted a child."

Naomi abruptly laughs, and Rachel's anger flares up. "I'll have you know that-" she begins her ranting speech that she has given far more times than she cares to.

"Woah woah, slow down. It's alright. I'm sorry I laughed. But I  _promise_  I'm not laughing for the reasons that I'm sure you're used to."

Rachel just gives her this pointed look that clearly says- you better explain, and sooner would be better.

"It's just that you're upbringing makes this like a million times easier. I've been out since I was an early teenager, and I've never made any effort to hide who I am. I knew my mom wouldn't care and Portland's pretty fucking liberal. I had no intention of hiding now just because I'm in a new environment, but I did wonder how to handle the roommate situation. Do I tell her right away to get the potential awkwardness out of the way? Or do I wait until we know each other better? Well, I guess karma's being good to me, and just decided to give me a roommate raised by two men. Ace."

She relaxes as Naomi explains the reason for her laughter. After all these years, it's hard to imagine anyone laughing for any other reason than malice.

"So…you're gay?"

"Not exactly." Rachel's brows furrow in confusion. Didn't she just say-

"I just like people. I've dated guys. I've dated girls. And I've dated someone who refused to be narrowly classified as either. But I guess anything other than one hundred percent heterosexual requires a bit of explanation and 'coming out' in our culture, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose it does. Well, as you properly assumed, you have nothing to worry about. It won't be awkward unless you make it awkward. I'm not concerned about when I'm changing or anything. In fact, it's good practice for my future career where I'll have to perform quick costume changes in front of people between scenes."

Naomi just laughs at her antics and shakes her head lightly. "Good to know. Alright, well as long as we're hashing this stuff out now, we might as well talk about other logistics."

"Like?"

"Are you a morning person or a night owl? Oh, who am I kidding, I'm sure you're a morning person."

Rachel pouts, but nods her agreement while Naomi laughs again. "Yeah, figured. I'm definitely more of a night time person, but I've got some morning studio classes this semester so I won't be sleeping in anyway unless it's the weekend."

"Where do you prefer to do homework? I'll be using practice rooms most likely for my music things, and I'll probably prefer the library to work on my gen ed homework."

"All my painting stuff will be in the studios. And I tend to do other work in semi-public settings like coffee shops and stuff. I need some background noise while I'm working."

"My friend Quinn is the same way." She can't help but smile as she thinks of Quinn in that coffee shop in New Haven earlier, reading her book and hiding away from the orientation mobs. She's lost in her thoughts enough to completely miss the curious look that Naomi gives her.

"Quinn. That's an interesting name. I don't think I've ever heard that before."

"She's my best friend. Quinn is actually her middle name, but she'd never admit that to most of the world. So I guess don't tell her that you know that if you ever meet her. She's at Yale right now. Last I checked, she was planning on majoring in English and minoring in Drama. Possibly double-majoring instead if she can swing it without over-working herself."

"Yale. Damn. Did everyone in your small town high school end up at impossibly selective schools across the country?"

"No, Quinn and I are at the most selective schools. Though for a small suburban town, I guess a fair share of us did manage to get out of state. Santana's at UCLA majoring in business, and Brittany moved out there to dance. Of course, everyone saw that coming; we all knew nothing but death would separate those two."

Naomi just raises her eyebrow in question. "They're ridiculously in love with each other. If anyone is proof that sometimes high school relationships are genuine and lasting, it's those two. They definitely had to fight for it though."

"Are you telling me that you're very conservative small-town high school had an out and proud lesbian couple?" Naomi questions her with interest.

"We did. Though the 'out' part didn't happen for a while and wasn't exactly voluntary. And the 'proud' part didn't happen until even later. I think Brittany's the only reason that they got as comfortable as they did. Though it certainly helped that they were at the top of the school hierarchy."

"What?"

"They were both cheerleaders."

"Dayum. Not to trivialize their relationship, but two cheerleaders? That sounds hot."

"Oh, it was. They're both too attractive for their own good. And I think even some of the straight girls secretly envied just how in love they are. But, anyway, I got totally sidetracked. I'm sure you don't want to hear me rant about people from my high school."

"Actually, I'm finding it fascinating. You'll have to tell me the full story of Brittany, and… what was the other girl's name?"

"Santana."

"Yeah, you'll have to tell me the full story about them sometime. Because I have a feeling there's a  _lot_  I haven't heard."

"Oh yeah. There is."

"My high school experience was pretty standard, I think. Some people gave me shit for my sexuality, but for the most part people didn't really care. I-"

She's cut off by the sound of one of the electronic riffs from a different Passion Pit song, except this time it's coming from a cell phone.

"Oops, sorry, let me just see…oh hey, speaking of which… hey Quinn!" Rachel presses her phone to her ear and mouths a quick  _sorry, just a sec_  to Naomi.

"Hey, I know we just skyped a little while ago, but oh my gosh I have something to tell you," Quinn sounds hurried, like she just can't wait to share her story.

"Can I call you back later tonight? I'm actually getting to know my roommate right now. We just met a little bit ago."

"Oh, awesome! Sorry I interrupted you. How about we just talk in the morning after you've done your exercise routine and stuff?"

"It's a date. I'll talk to you soon Q."

"It's going good though, Rach?"

"Yeah it's going good," she answers softly before adding a quick "bye" and hanging up her phone.

"Sorry about that. We're kind of used to talking constantly because we spent most of the summer together."

"No worries. Hey, I was going to go grab some food downstairs in the dining hall soon. Do you want to join me? Maybe you can tell me more about these interesting people from high school, and I can bore you with details about how amazing Portland is."

"Yeah, that sounds great! Let me just get my shoes on, and I'll be ready to go."

Their dorm is the largest of the freshmen dorms and is situated on a densely packed city block nestled directly between the two colleges. One of the dining halls is actually in the dorm because so many of the freshman live there, and it's nice not to have to go outside to get food during the winter months.

"Alright sweet. I'm just gonna go use the restroom real quick and then I'll meet you by the stairs." Naomi slings her messenger bag over her shoulder and heads out into the hallway.

As soon as she's gone, Rachel pulls out her cell to send off a quick text message.

_My roommate has purple hair and she's a painter. She's also pansexual and is fascinated by the saga of Brittany and Santana. Not what I was expecting, but it's going better than I could have even hoped. tty soon!_

Quinn is at her desk trying to get her drawers organized when her phone chimes.

_**Her hair is PURPLE! Bet it's not as awesome as my hair was at the beginning of last year. ;)**_

Rachel laughs at the immediate comparison.

_I don't know. She pulls it off pretty well. Definitely would have given you a run for your money. Off to dinner now. Bye! 3_

Quinn reads the reply, and then sits at her desk and thinks about what she  _actually_  wanted to address in the text. Rachel's roommate is pansexual. Quinn isn't even sure why that made her pause. After all, this is New York City and Rachel is surrounded by open-minded artistic types. Still, for some reason it throws her off way more than the purple hair. Whatever, they'll be able to talk in better detail tomorrow. For now, she's thinking that trying out the make-your-own stir fry option in the dining hall sounds pretty appealing.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as she hears the tell-tale skype chimes, Quinn sets aside her booklist that she was reading through and hits the 'accept' button.

Immediately, Rachel's smiling face appears. She's got wet hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, no make-up on, and she's cradling a mug of coffee between her hands that's balanced on her knee as her foot rests on the chair. She looks relaxed, and absolutely adorable.

"Well, good morning Ms. Berry. How are you today?" Quinn asks her in a light teasing tone.

"Quinn, your video isn't on." Rachel gives a small pout and then takes another sip of her coffee.

"Oh sorry, hold on a sec." Quinn clicks the manual button in the corner, and then her face appears on screen. "There we go. Can you see me now?"

"Yes!" Rachel's smile widens as she taken in Quinn on her screen. "Ooh, are you in your dorm room right now?"

"I am." Quinn nods as she looks around behind her, surveying the same things that Rachel's observing with interest on the screen.

"Quinn, your room is like more than twice the size of mine! You totally failed to mention that to me yesterday."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to make you jealous until I had to."

" _So_  not fair."

"I did kind of luck out with my dorm room. I hear several of the ivy schools have nice dorms. I also just lucked out and got placed in one of the nicer freshmen residences."

"Well, with a room like that, I'll definitely be visiting you soon." Rachel watches Quinn's eyes light up as she mentions visiting.

"So how was your morning work out? Where  _do_ you even work out now that you're there?"

"There's a small exercise center in the basement of our dorm. And it was great! There's a couple of elliptical machines down there, so I'm set."

"Is your roommate there?"

"Nope. She left about fifteen minutes ago to explore the city for the day. I almost went with her, but I decided to just take it easy since classes are starting tomorrow, and I know I'm going to be stressed."

"Alright then, tell me  _everything_. You totally left me curious last night when you texted me about the purple hair."

"Nuh-uh. I don't even know your roommate's name yet. You first."

Quinn tries to get her way by giving her the classic Fabray glare, but Rachel just bites her lip and shakes her head in return. Yeah, she's not going to win that one.

"To be honest, there's really not a whole lot to tell." Rachel just gives her this disbelieving look. "What! I'm totally serious. Her name is Jessica, and she's a Classics major."

"Classics?"

"Yeah, you know, like Ancient Rome and Greece and stuff and the ancient languages. So yeah, she's a Classics major and she seems nice enough. I have a feeling she's not going to be around much though. She seems very…intense about her school work. And I didn't get the impression that she enjoys doing social things."

"You  _are_  at Yale, Quinn. It's inevitable that some people are going to be really intense about their studies."

"I know, and I'm not really that surprised. I guess for a roommate it could be a lot worse. I trust that she's going to respect my space and my stuff and not really annoy me. But it's very clear that she is not going to be the best buds kind of college roommate."

"Are you disappointed?" Rachel sets her mug down and rests her chin on her knee, watching Quinn more closely to gauge the honesty of her answer.

"I'm not really sure. I don't think I am. I was so worried about having a Santana-type as a roommate, or some other possibility that I wouldn't be able to handle, that this feels like a decent outcome."

Rachel laughs at her mention of Santana. "Oh stop it, you love Santana."

"I do. And you love her too. But now imagine her as your roommate for just a moment."

She lowers her eyes in thought for a second and immediately has flashes of being locked out at two am because the girl is busy hooking up with someone. It's the first of many mental images that race through her mind.

"Oh  _god_ , you're right. There's no way I could put up with that." Quinn watches with amusement as a look of horror flash across Rachel's face.

"So yeah. I feel like, all things considered, I'm fairly lucky. I'm sure eventually I'll have my own circle of friends, and she'll be out of the room doing her own thing and we'll just kind of have this shared living space."

"It might be kind of nice, feeling a little bit like you have your own room, if she's not there that much."

"I agree. Oh, Rach, I have to tell you about yesterday! Remember I called you and said something happened."

"That's right! I totally forgot about that. You didn't get hit on by a bunch of frat guys advertising kick off parties, did you?" Rachel jokes with her.

But then Quinn's mouth snaps shut and she lowers her head sheepishly. "Oh my god, you  _did_! I was just  _joking_! Well don't get shy on me now, Fabray! What happened?"

Quinn blushes profusely for a moment at how easily Rachel called it, and then finally starts her story. "I was walking back to campus after I finished talking to you in the coffee shop yesterday. There's been a bunch of different clubs and stuff advertising around campus because of orientation and just the start of the year in general. When I was passing the chem building, there were a few different tables for the fraternities. It was really funny because these other freshmen girls, I could just tell they were trying so hard to impress these guys and get their attention."

"Sounds like a girl I used to know." Rachel bites the tip of her tongue between her teeth and scrunches her nose at her.

"Very funny. Well these girls weren't unlike that, except I doubt any of them are running a celibacy club. Anyway, I barely even noticed the guys because I had my camera out and was trying to photograph the gorgeous falls leaves on this gigantic old tree between two of the science buildings. And then I hear this male voice behind me say, 'Damn, you are way too gorgeous not to be at the Sigma Chi party this Friday. Please tell me you're gonna be there.'"

Rachel's head tips back as she lets of a loud laugh, while Quinn just unsuccessfully attempts to glare at her. "You're  _joking_."

"Oh, I wish I was. It was like Puck two point oh."

"Yeah, and that's just what you need the first week of school," she responds, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So what did you say?"

"I told him I'd consider coming to one of their other parties if he came up with a better line next time. I've heard that Sigma Chi does have some of the better parties, although Greek life isn't that big here in general. I just don't want that tool to think he's the reason why I'm there."

"Well you're hot and you're in college Quinn, so I'd get used to the come-ons now if I were you. It'll probably be a bit like McKinley, except hopefully some of these guys will have actual tact."

Quinn stutters for a moment. As much as she's used to Rachel's blatant honesty, every so often it still takes her by surprise. She feels this fluttering feeling settle in her stomach. "Umm, Rach, did you just call me hot?"

"Oh don't be so surprised. I have  _eyes,_  Quinn. And surely affirmations of your aesthetic beauty are something you're used to by now."

She doesn't really know what to say to that. Admitting it would make her seem shallow, but having an elongated conversation about her lingering insecurities is  _not_  what she wants to be discussing right now either. So she just settles on changing the topic altogether.

"I want to hear about Naomi now."

"Are you not appreciating my teasing?" Rachel smiles, but lets her off the hook. "Well I already told you that she has purple hair. I don't think I told you that it's in this, like, faux hawk style."

"Do you have a link to her facebook profile? I gotta see what this looks like. Plus, I want to facebook stalk your roomie too."

"Quinn!"

"What at least I'm honest. Now link me." Rachel shakes her head, but pulls up a new tab on her browser and goes to the page of her roommate that she friended last night. "She's got a private profile page, so there's not much stalking potential, but you'll be able to see her picture."

A small dinging noise alerts Quinn of the link.

Immediately, Quinn wishes that she hadn't asked for a picture. Because Naomi, well, Rachel failed to mention that this girl is kind of…gorgeous. Like, if she chose to pursue flaunting the conventional sides of her beauty, this girl would have guys falling for her everywhere. She's got these grey-blue eyes that would captivate any bystander if the hair weren't such a distraction. As it is, she pulls off the purple hair and upper-ear piercings far too well.

"So yeah, I'd say that's a pretty accurate picture of what she looks like now. She's such a sweetheart though, Quinn. I'm so glad that I didn't just make a snap judgment based on her appearance, because she's nothing like I would have expected. We ended up talking for like three hours last night, and then she made me watch this lesser known Johnny Depp movie called _Benny & Joon_ that I had never seen but was fantastic. I really think we're gonna get along well this year."

"Aw I'm really happy that the roommate situation is working out for you, Rach." Except that there's now this mysterious lump in Quinn's throat and she doesn't know why it's there. She really is happy for Rachel, but she can't help but feel slightly off about all of this. She files the feeling away to think about later.

"I think this could finally be my fresh start, Quinn. All my life I've been that girl with the two dads who is obnoxiously driven and too confident in her talent. I'm so sick of that defining me, and I think I'm finally in a place where people can like me for me. Where I don't have to be afraid of people mocking me anymore, and I don't have to be that insecure girl who cries because she's not what people want her to be."

And just like that, it feels like someone's got a vice grip on Quinn's heart, twisting painfully at Rachel's admission. "But, it wasn't like that at the end, was it? I mean, by the end of the school year this year, it seemed like things were finally okay, that they had settled."

Rachel is softly is shaking her head in rebuttal before Quinn has even finished her sentence. "You and Santana and the other jocks shaped people's perceptions of me at McKinley for so long. Just because you both finally decided to be true friends with me in senior year doesn't mean the rest of the school followed along. They just made sure you weren't around to see it happen when the continued with their behavior."

All those moments spent hanging out during second semester, all those days during the summer when they were inseparable. Why did Rachel never tell her this? She could've done something to stop it, or at least her and Santana could have  _tried_.

Rachel can sense her thought process. "There's nothing you could have done, Quinn. And I finally had a real friend. A best friend. I didn't want you pitying me, and I didn't want you constantly on the defensive at school because I knew nothing could be changed anyway."

"You still should have told me."

"To be honest, I was afraid it would be a catalyst in bringing up those years where  _you_  were the one making me cry, and I just didn't want to go there. I didn't want you feeling guilty just because you were the original instigator of some of that behavior."

Quinn grips the edge of her desk as she feels moisture begin to pool in the corners of her eyes. "I will never be able to apologize enough for how I used to behave, Rachel. You have one of the kindest hearts of any person I have ever met, and you  _never_  deserved to be treated that way."

"Quinn, sweetheart, it's alright. I know you're not that person anymore. This is exactly why I didn't want to bring up what was happening. I know your apologies are sincere. But I do hope that one day, we'll be able to have a longer conversation about the other years of high school. Because I've forgiven you, but I still don't  _understand_  you. I don't understand why you ever behaved that way in the first place."

"I'm so sorry, Rachel. There's still a lot about…about my past that you don't know or don't understand. I can't promise that I'll be able to tell you all at once, but I promise that eventually I'll tell you everything. Because if anyone deserves a complete explanation, it's you."

They both sit in silence for a moment, unsure of what to move on to next. This wasn't supposed to be a heavy conversation. This was supposed to just be a morning catch up and say hi kind of talk.

Rachel bites her lip, and watches as Quinn's gaze hardens and starts to put up emotional blockades.

"Did I tell you that Naomi loves Passion Pit? I was totally have a dance party of one to  _Moth's Wings_  when she first came into the room yesterday."

And just like that, the tension dissipates and Quinn is smiling again. "You were listening to Passion Pit?"

"Yep. It felt like the right background music for unpacking my new life. She totally caught me mid twirl."

"I guess it could have been worse. You could have been doing that ridiculous attempt at eighties dance moves to  _Sleepyhead_  like that one time when Santana walked in the house while we were jamming out and baking."

"Oh god, that was so embarrassing."

"It's gonna be a while before you live that one down. Promise me that if we ever go to a party together this year, that we'll get drunk and dance like fools to that song together. Because that's like, at the top of my bucket list for this school year."

"Only if you promise to keep your wits about you enough to defend me and keep guys from taking advantage of me. I refuse to end up in a 'morning after' situation of awkwardness and regret with some random just because you got me drunk so we could dance without feeling self-conscious."

" _God_ , Rachel! You know I would  _never_  let that happen. I'd pretend to be your possessive girlfriend to keep guys off you before I let something like _that_  happen."

"Maybe you  _should_  get me wildly drunk then. The mental image of getting to see you acting like my jealous girlfriend is too great to pass up. Though with my bad luck I probably wouldn't have that precious memory still with me in the morning."

"Oh, shut up. You know what I meant."

They're both smiling and sitting in comfortable silence for a few moments, and then Rachel rests her chin on her hand and leans in towards the camera slightly.

"I miss you. I know we're talking right now and whatever but-"

"I get it, Rach. I miss you too. But we're not too far away from each other. I could probably manage a weekend trip out to you within the next month before the semester gets too busy. Until then, we'll keep talking like this, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm gonna go get ready now so I can scope out where my classrooms are located and maybe even meet some new people on campus. We'll talk soon, I'm sure."

"Okay. Love you, Q."

"You too, Rach. Bye!" Quinn does this adorable little wave at the camera, and then the screen goes black.

Tomorrow is the first day of classes, and though she could be stressed, her talk with Quinn has her in a good mood and she's learning to take it one day at a time for now.

An impulse decision leads her to pull out her cell.

_Hey I changed my mind. Is there somewhere I can meet you after I get ready? I'd love to explore the city with you if the offer still stands._

A reply comes just moments later.

_**Awesome! That's perfect I'm just at a coffee shop a couple blocks away because I wanted to check my email first. Meet me by the subway stop across from the park?**_

It's the subway station closest to the school.

_I still need twenty minutes or so to get ready. Can you wait that long?_

_**No prob I'll just browse online for a bit while you get ready**_

_Ok thanks Naomi see you soon :)_

This last free day has the potential to be a lot of things.

And she's decided that she'd rather it be a day spent exploring wacky artistic neighborhoods with her awesome roommate than a day spent worrying about what's to come.

Tomorrow will arrive soon enough either way. She might as well spend the day exploring this city of infinite possibilities.


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn's been hearing about college since she was still in elementary school. It's kind of inevitable when you've got parents who are both obsessed with your future success, and you've got an older sister who is getting accepted to several elite schools herself.

College has always been a part of her plan, even before Quinn was old enough to  _have_  a solid plan. It wasn't a matter of if, but just a matter of where, she would go to school.

But then the little plus sign on that plastic stick stared back at her, mocking and unrelenting, and all of her plans seemed to go right down the drain.

College was the plan. Pregnancy was not.

Somehow, nine months later, the flickering light of her future starts to illuminate again and maybe it hasn't been totally extinguished after all. Maybe there's still a chance for her.

Her father couldn't have been more proud when she put her entire sophomore year behind her and moved forward as if nothing had ever happened. She was a Fabray, and setbacks don't deter Fabrays long term.

The cheerios uniform fit her perfectly soon enough, and the only physical reminder of the previous year that she was left with were the few faint white scar lines on the sides of her hips.

The choice to leave behind her biological daughter, and the tentative relationship that she was forming with her, in favor of a one-way ticket to Connecticut was not an easy one. She remembers the day in early April when her acceptance package came, and the tears that leaked down her cheeks. Only she couldn't tell if they were happy tears or sad tears. She finally had a chance to leave Lima behind. But at what cost?

Rachel was the one who ultimately convinced her that Yale was the right choice. She softly reminded her that she gave Beth up because she couldn't give her what she needed.

"But you didn't just give your daughter a better future, Quinn. You gave her up, and you gave yourself a second chance too. I know that's  _not_  why you did it. I know that giving Beth away was the most selfless difficult thing you have ever done in your life. You wanted to give the world to your daughter, Quinn. Years from now, she won't hate you for leaving her in Lima."

Quinn had started crying at that point, because Rachel immediately understood her deepest fears without Quinn even voicing them. She understood, and she wasn't letting her run away from it all.

"I think if anything, she'll be proud of the woman that you'll become," she continued. "I think  _Beth_  would be the guilty one if she grew up and discovered that, despite giving her up, you still gave up on your own dreams too."

So now here she is, at the end of September, standing on Whitney Avenue at Yale getting ready to attend her first class ever of college. Her chest may constrict every time she sees a mom with her toddler, but she doesn't regret the fact that she's walking into her Introduction to Shakespeare class. It's this lack of regret that proves Rachel was right.

_**I'll tell you later when we talk, but you should know now, I'll never be able to thank you enough for helping me to see that Yale was the right move. Good luck today. You're gonna be great. 3**_

She silences her phone and puts it away without waiting for a reply, entering the building to make sure she gets a good seat for her first class.

**XXxxXX**

_There was a day when almost no one in the world knew Barbra's name either. Everyone starts somewhere. Conquer today. Don't let today conquer you._

It's written on a lime green post-it and tacked to her laptop screen when she gets back from the shower, and she smiles as soon as she sees it. Yeah, she totally lucked out on the roommate.

Naomi has a studio class from 9 to noon and Rachel's first lecture on Mondays isn't until 10, so she's already gone by the time Rachel gets back from the bathroom.

They spent  _hours_  in the East Village yesterday, and she's not sure if she ever wants to go back there again unless it's with an artistically minded person because it really was the best way to see that part of the city. At one point, they ended up in this music store that allows you to sample to cds and records on various players. She forced Naomi to listen to Don't Rain on My Parade as she belted it out alongside Barbra (and watched as her jaw dropped in awe).

But then Naomi responded with a serious expression, " _Please_ , you've got nothin' on my skills."

She then proceeded to put on some hip-hop artist named Charles Hamilton and hilariously rapped along "I ain't got no problems with giiirrlss out in Harlem, but they ain't nothing like a Brooklyn girl", much to the amusement of the man standing behind the counter. By the time she hit the line "man shawty nothing like a Brooklyn girl" for the second time, Rachel had her head thrown back in laughter.

"See, clearly no competition," she joked when she finished.

Rachel just gave her a slow clap while shaking with laughter, and Naomi bowed in response.

When she had finally calmed down and they exited the store, she turned towards her roommate and asked- "Hip-hop, huh? Isn't that going to destroy your artistic cred?"

Naomi just scoffed and smiled. "Hey, some hip-hop is good. One of my friends back home told me about Charles Hamilton. That's his most well-known song, the one that I sang. I don't even think the rest of it is available on iTunes."

"Well if it's not on iTunes, then I guess your hipster image isn't damaged too much," she teased.

"Hey! Remember what I told you earlier. I am  _not_  a hipster. Don't be tossing the h-word at me."

They spent the rest of the day exploring all sorts of fun places, with Rachel conspiratorially whispering " _hipster_ " loudly at Naomi every time she said something remotely cool and artistic.

They talked about a lot of things yesterday, one of which was Rachel's near hero-worship adoration of Barbra Streisand. She thought that Naomi had zoned out by that point, but apparently she had been listening if this sticky note is any indication.

When she checks her phone, she has another encouraging message from an entirely different person. She re-reads the final sentence one last time to calm her nerves.

_You're gonna be great._

She's feeling a lot better than she was a couple of minutes ago, and she vaguely wonders if her early years of high school would have been more enjoyable if she had had friends like this in her life. Sure, Naomi is a new friend, but she's already shaping up to be a great one. And Quinn…well, Quinn is self-explanatory.

**XXxxXX**

_Conquer today. Don't let today conquer you_.

That's proven to be far more difficult than she imagined it would be. Quinn had said they could talk at seven, and Rachel doesn't want to be too clingy by calling earlier. Thank god it's only a couple minutes until, because Naomi is nowhere around and she doesn't know how much longer she can hold it together.

A couple more minutes and then her phone is ringing. Maybe Quinn thought she might not be in the room to be available for skype. Or maybe it's Quinn that doesn't have access to her computer. Either way, she'll take a phone conversation for now. In fact, that might make this easier.

She presses the accept call button, and says a brief and quiet "Hey."

Before she can get a single word in, Quinn is talking excitedly. "Oh my gosh. Rachel. Today has been the  _coolest_  day. I have so much to tell you! My Shakespearean literature class was like something straight out of a movie. It was in this old classroom building and had this chalkboard instead of those new whiteboards. And my professor is this old guy with this  _epic_  mustache and these thin glasses, and I don't even care that I have to memorize a speech from Hamlet by Friday because I just know this class is gonna be so cool." All of the words rush out of her in quick succession, and the joy and excitement is evident in her voice.

When she hears nothing but silence on the line, she checks to make sure the call didn't get disconnected. But the seconds are still ticking away. "Rach?" she asks, confused, as she takes a seat on one of the benches outside of the dining hall.

"I'm sorry." Rachel's voice is nothing but a whisper at first. But then the sound of Rachel's voice as she speaks again causes Quinn to freeze and crease her brow in worry. "I'm so happy for you, Quinn. I had…my day…it was just really  _really_  bad…" Her voice cracks on the second 'really' as a sob wracks her body, and her breathing is labored as tears start leaking down her cheeks.

"Rachel? What happened?" Quinn's voice is panicked and laced with worry, but she gets nothing but the sound of crying in response.

"Rach? Rachel, please say something. What's going on?"

She hears her continued sobbing for a few more seconds before she finally starts talking.

"My music composition class was actually pretty good." She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself enough to explain everything to Quinn.

"Okay…" Quinn says patiently, softly, letting her know that she's listening attentively and giving her encouragement.

"It was…it was my musical theater class. Of course. The one I was most excited about. Figures."

"Honey, what happened?" she gently asks her when there's another elongated pause.

"My professor. He wanted us each to sing a short solo. I think it was more for us to get acquainted with each  _other's_  talent, because I'm sure he's heard some of us on our audition tapes. You know how small and selective this program is. Anyway, I was the fourth to perform. The first three were fantastic, but I felt like I was on par with them vocally. I knew they were equal to me, but not better. I sang a part of On My Own from Les Mis. It seemed like it went really well. My classmates were at least moderately impressed."

"Okay…so what happened?" Quinn still didn't understand Rachel's distress.

"When the bell rang, the professor asked to speak with me. I got excited and walked towards him, thinking he wanted to compliment me specifically without making the other students jealous. And that's what it seemed like. At first. He told me that he was impressed by my performance. But then he said…he said" Rachel's voice cuts off as she starts to cry again, but she pushes through her story even as her emotions rise up again. "He said that I was talented, but that all the odds are against me to ever make it on Broadway. More so than my other classmates. He said that he didn't want me to have false hope. Because…it will be almost impossible to find a casting director willing to cast me in a lead… with my physical appearance the way it is." By the end of her sentence, Rachel's voice fades out into a murmur.

Quinn feels something akin to lead drop in her stomach. "He  _what_?" She spits out, monotone, simmering rage barely contained beneath the surface. "What the  _fuck_  gives him the right to say something like that?"

Rachel jumps slightly as the expletive boldly escapes from Quinn's mouth, but she doesn't respond. It's easier to just cry and not have to say anything more. The incident itself was bad on its own, but now she's got the added embarrassment of Quinn learning the reason for her bad day.

She expected to maybe be judged harshly on her vocal performance. It was anticipated, given the caliber of the school that she now attends. But what can she do about physical appearance? She's stuck in this skin. Four years of high school made that abundantly clear. There's no training or exercises or practice to change her genetics. That's what makes it so pathetic and heartbreaking. She made it all the way here, and even now her voice, her talent is not what matters most in an academic environment.

"I can't believe this. That a  _professor_  would have the audacity to say something like that. I'm so sorry that that happened to you, Rach. But you can't let his comment get to you. He's wrong, and you're going to prove it to him this semester." Her voice raises as she talks, conviction and emotion trying to force its way through her cell to her best friend.

"Is he though?"

"Is he what?"

"Wrong."

Quinn's brow furrows at the possible implication of what Rachel is saying.

"What do you mean Rachel? Of  _course_  he's wrong!"

"I don't know, Quinn. As much as it hurt, I think part of the reason why it upset me so much is because there's a lot of truth to it. I'm not beautiful like that. I don't have the looks that would get me the lead. I have the voice, but not the appearance. It's just the reality of this business."

"You stop that. Right now." Rachel makes a small noise of disagreement, but doesn't say anything. "I  _mean_  it, Rachel. You are  _beautiful_ , and anyone who tells you otherwise is an idiot. A blind idiot."

"I just can't believe you, Quinn."

"Why the hell not?" Quinn's anger at Rachel's stubbornness starts to seep through. She understands Rachel's sadness and her heart aches for her, but why can't she just accept that she's beautiful? One idiot professor's perception shouldn't change that for her.

"Because!" Rachel says back, indignantly, no further explanation.

"Because  _why_!" Quinn asks loudly, frustrated.

"Because I can't trust someone who says I'm beautiful when they spent more than a  _year_  calling me man-hands and RuPaul!" she yells back through tears.

The line goes dead quiet, and Quinn feels like she can't breathe. Seriously, something is blocking her oxygen intake. She idly wonders if this is what it feels like to get punched in the stomach.

It takes her a moment before she can even suck in a ragged breath, and then another few moments before she can form words.

"I…Rachel I can't even…"

"I love you, Quinn, and you're my best friend. You stopped with the names. But that's just it, you stopped, and eventually Santana did too. And it was never brought up again after. No explanation. Nothing. So either you believed it, but are too nice now to say it, or there's some other explanation that you've yet to share."

"It was underclassmen high school, Rach. I was an  _idiot_. I didn't mean any of it. You have to know that."

Rachel sighs, but doesn't respond. "You know, I don't think I've ever been more relieved about something than the day you walked into the auditorium and told us that you decided not to get a nose job."

"Yeah, well, maybe I should have."

"No!  _Stop_  it, Rachel! I love your nose. Your whole face. It's stunning. Actually stunning. There's all those girls with the typical soft feminine features, and it's  _boring_. All the same. Unoriginal. And then there's you with your bold profile that is just as stunning and one of a kind as your voice is. Don't you  _dare_  say that you wish you had gotten that nose job."

Rachel just sniffles, and then softly answers, "I would give anything to be what you call boring. I spent most of high school wishing I looked like you, Quinn. Like the pretty girls. And if I'm being honest with myself, I  _still_  think that way."

Quinn doesn't even notice that she's been crying for the past couple of minutes until a sharp gust of wind makes her cheeks feel wet and cold.

"I just wish you could see how beautiful you are," she says so gently, softly, that it's almost a whisper. She pauses for a moment, watching students pass her by on the sidewalk and picturing Rachel crying in her room. "You know, I've missed you a lot the past few days. But this is the first time that it's ever felt this  _difficult_  to not be there with you. You have no idea how badly I just want to give you a hug right now."

"That would be nice," she admits quietly. "I wish you were here too."

"Can I tell you something that will make you smile?"

Rachel grabs a tissue and wipes the excess tears off her face, then settles back into her pillow. "I guess."

"Santana emailed me a couple of hours ago, updating me on stuff in California. Her and Brittany went to some UCLA frat party last night. Leave it to San to get her party on before classes even start. Anyway, Brittany was dancing all amazing and sexy to some raunchy hip-hop song and she had like half a dozen guys drooling over her. Santana didn't even know because she was busy trying to find sealed beer that she knew was safe. She didn't want any open drinks that guys were offering to give her. So she came back into the room and saw all those guys drooling over Britt."

A genuine smile forms on Rachel's face. "Oh god, what did she do?"

"According to her email, she walked right up to Britt, and pulled her down into a kiss, tongue and all. The guys started cheering until she shouted over the music that any dude who wished to keep their balls would keep their hands off her girlfriend. And she expected all frat guys to become aware of this for future parties."

Rachel's laughing lightly. "Not surprised at all."

"Yeah me either."

"Santana says that Brittany told the guys after, and this is word for word, 'And if you're really nice to San and not creepy to us you'll get to see us make out at parties and stuff. I know we're super hot. We can't help it.'"

Now they're both cracking up. "Bless that girl."

"I know, I wish I had been there to see it all happen."

"Do you miss them, Q?"

"A little. But not as much as I miss you."

"I'm sorry I brought up the past, Quinn. I know how awful it makes you feel. But the truth is that all that time in high school made me really insecure about how I look. I thought I'd finally gotten away from it all, but then it happened today, and from a person whose respect  _matters_  to me."

"I understand, Rach. You should send an email to the guy, and just explain that you thought his comment was inappropriate. That you're looking forward to his class, but you expect him not to say something like that again. Because I want you to be able to enjoy that class. And I know you do too."

"Okay, I will. You know how I struggle with confronting authority figures, but it needs to be done."

"It does."

"Well, now that I'm not quite so upset, I'd love to actually hear about your day now."

Quinn smiles, and then launches into an hour-by-hour breakdown of her first real day at Yale.

It's not until over an hour later, when Naomi gets home, that they finally wrap up their conversation. They promise to talk soon, as always, and Rachel hangs up feeling far better than she did earlier this evening.

Once Quinn disconnects, she looks up to see Naomi taking her shoes off and collapsing onto her bed with a bag of Chinese take-out in her hands.

"How was your day?" Rachel inquires politely.

Naomi peeks open one eye at her while her face is squished sideways into her pillow and says bluntly, "It was shit. Some guy informed me that my art is not truly art because it's not an original concept."

Rachel laughs abruptly, and Naomi frowns over at her. "I'm sorry," Rachel says through her laughter. "It's just that I had the  _worst_  day too, and I was totally sobbing up until a little while ago. As twisted as it is, I'm glad I'm not the only one."

"What happened with you?"

"Eh, It's kind of long winded. Basically, my prof flat out told me that I wouldn't make it on Broadway because I'm not pretty enough to play a lead."

Naomi lifts her head at that and looks and her fully. "What a douchebag. Want some Chinese food?" She starts rustling through the bag.

"I'm a vegan."

"I know, you told me yesterday. I picked out some Thai thing that's vegan, 'cause it looked good anyway and I should really start eating at least a little healthier. So you want some?"

Rachel had eaten an early dinner, so she figures why not. It does smell pretty good.

They settle against the wall together on Naomi's bed, sharing the container of food between them.

"Did they like your hair at least?"

The look Naomi gives her is totally worth asking the question.

Also, this Thai dish is pretty damn good.


	5. Chapter 5

She accepts the call once she checks the caller ID on the screen.

"Hello?"

All she hears is silence.

"Quinn, you there?"

There's a pause and then, "I messed up."

"What are you talking about?"

"I messed up  _big time_."

**XXxxXX**

_24 hours earlier_

It's a Saturday morning and she finds herself back at Woodland, her go to off-campus coffee house. They've got great service, and the coffee is good, plus they've got great tables for studying. Which is exactly what she's doing- studying.

Alright, yeah, she's at Yale. But she wasn't expecting the school work to pile on  _this_  fast.

She's currently working her way through Act 3 of Hamlet, which isn't strictly necessary when she'll have all weekend. Except it is necessary when she needs to do everything in her power to keep her mind distracted today.

Flashes of lying curled up on the tile of her bathroom floor while tears leak down her face start rushing through her mind though, and she knows she's not going to be able to escape this day. She couldn't escape it two years ago by running twelve miles on the school track, and she couldn't escape it last year by avoiding everything and spending the day dying her hair pink.

She slams her book shut and presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to block out the images. She doesn't open her eyes until she hears her phone chime a couple minutes later, and the sound yanks her out of her thoughts.

A text message awaits her, and she clicks the screen to read:

_Call me if you need to talk today. I know we've never been good with sharing, but I'm pretty sure I'm still the only one who knows what today is. Love you Q._

Santana might be a bitch, but she's a friend when it matters. And today is a day when it matters.

_**Thanks San. Talking is the LAST thing I want to do but you'll be the first to know if that changes**_ **.**

She's going to keep reading Hamlet, and she is going to get through this day. Wallowing in self pity is  _not_  an option.

When she is finally getting to the end of reading this damn scene, a young guy interrupts her while he waits for his coffee.

"Hamlet, huh?"

Quinn just arches her eyebrow at him in response. Today is  _not_  the day for idle chit chat.

"I took an intro Shakespeare class last year. Definitely not my strong suit, but I think Hamlet was my favorite one that we read."

"I'm in Intro to Shakespeare right now." She says it politely, but succinctly, trying to cut off this guy's attempt at conversation.

He's not catching on though.

"Oh really? Who's your prof?"

"Schaller."

"Hmm. I don't know him. I had Whitmore."

"My prof is a woman actually," she takes a long sip of her coffee and eyes the guy warily.

He looks at her for a moment and then takes a step closer. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar."

"Really? I don't recognize you at all. And I have a good memory, great one in fact. Which leads me to believe that that was a lame attempt at a pick up." Okay, so she's a bit of a bitch this morning. But today is  _so_  not her day, and this guy should have picked up on her dismissive tone by now.

His reaction completely catches her off guard. His eyes light up and he laughs.

"Ah, now I remember you. You're the girl who totally shut down Alex outside of the chemistry building during orientation last week! I'm in Sigma Chi. He invited you to the party with some stupid line, and you weren't having any of it. The dude was so embarrassed after you did that. I didn't recognize you at first, but the bitchy tone helped to jog my memory."

"Do all the guys in your frat have such bad game, or am I just unlucky?"

"Neither. Alex has awful game. And  _I_  was not attempting to hit on you. Okay maybe, I am a little right now, but I wasn't when I said that you looked familiar. I really did recognize you. My name is Jordan, by the way."

He extends his hand towards her and she grudgingly returns the handshake. "Quinn."

"Quinn. That's a cool name."

She has to admit that this guy isn't actually that bad. Sure, it's a little annoying that he just started chatting her up at 10 am on a Saturday in a coffee shop, but he seems to be legitimately kind, and not at all phased by Quinn's bitchy attitude. Maybe talking to someone for a few minutes will help her to keep her mind off of things too.

"So what year are you, Jordan?"

"I'm a sophomore, majoring in political science. And I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you're a freshman."

"Got it in one."

"I have a large green tea here for Jordan," a barista calls out from behind the counter.

"Green tea? Now  _that_ I would not have guessed."

"Yeah, I'm a closeted health nut. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?"

Normally, Quinn would have told this guy to get lost by now. But something about his demeanor is calming, and she could use some calm right now. She gestures her hand at the empty seat on the other side of her little table, and he sets his backpack down next to hers and settles into the other seat.

The guy is tall, well over six feet, has gorgeous darker skin, and is built like an athlete. In fact, she's willing to bet money that he plays some sort of sport for Yale.

"What sport do you play?"

"That obvious, huh?" he laughs and takes a sip of his tea.

"A little. Also, I know an athlete when I see one. You're either an athlete, or used to be one and are still disciplined about your fitness."

"I play soccer."

"Nice. I would ask what position you play, but I know nothing about soccer."

"I think you're one of the only girls who has ever flat out admitted that to me," he says with a smile as he takes another sip of his tea. "The rest all try to pretend like they know when they totally don't."

"Hey, I spent many years doing that. I could totally go that conversational route if you'd prefer," she jokes.

"No, that's alright. So your plans for the morning are coffee and Hamlet, but you should come to Sigma Chi tonight. We're having another party at the house, and it's gonna be a lot of fun."

"What makes you think I don't already have plans?"

"Girls who read Hamlet alone before noon on a Saturday are not regular partiers. Sure, you can know how to get your party on and have a good time, but I bet you don't do it regularly. Which means you don't make plans to go until a few hours beforehand when someone asks you. If you've got plans tonight, it's something that's going on earlier, not a party."

The guy may be a little too chatty, but he's certainly a good read of people. That's definitely one of the more accurate assessments of herself that she's ever gotten from a stranger.

"You're right, I don't have plans for tonight. But that's intentional."

"So what's it going to take to get you to change your mind and come?"

"Why do you even want me there?"

"Because I get to rub it in Alex's face if I can get you to show up. And because you seem like a cool person, beneath that whole bitchy façade."

Quinn laughs when he calls her out on her earlier attitude. She thinks about it for a moment, and then finally gives in.

"On any other day, I would say no. But today is not any other day. You lucked out on happening to find me on a day where I want to get spectacularly drunk and think absolutely nothing. So if you can guarantee that, then I'll be there."

"Oh, you can  _definitely_  count on that. Here's my number of you need to reach me at all." He writes out his cell number on a scrap of paper and then passes it over to Quinn.

"I've got to get back to the library. I'm supposed to be meeting up with someone there in a bit, but I better see you tonight, Quinn."

"You will. Bye, Jordan."

He slings his backpack over his shoulder and gracefully exits the shop.

Tonight, she's got plans. Which means a few less hours that she'll have to spend avoiding all the shit running through her head.

**XXxxXX**

_Much later that night_

She feels fucking fantastic.

Or maybe it's the fact that she doesn't feel much of anything at all that's making it so fantastic. The absence of feeling. Just…being.

Her hips are swaying in a sinfully short dress that Santana made her buy over the summer because, "your ass looks amazing. Guys are gonna be trippin over each other with you wearing that. Actually, scratch that.  _Everyone_  will be drooling over you in that. That dress makes sexuality irrelevant because  _damn_  girl."

She's vaguely aware that said amazing ass is intimately pressed into someone else's front, but she's three tequila shots past giving a fuck.

The bass thumps around her and she hears some hip-hop artist croon  _Give me everyythiiinggg toonigghtt_ as the person behind her moves their hands from her hips to wrap around her waist and pull her closer. She leans her head back into the dancer's shoulder, and weaves her hand through thick wavy hair behind her.

She notes for a second that this hair is very long, and these arms wrapped around her are really soft, but none of it really matters. She's having a good time. She's letting go. She's forgetting for tonight.

The person behind her turns her around, and then she feels lips slowly descending onto the side of her neck. Quinn runs her hands through hair and let's herself get pulled closer, because  _fuck_  that tongue over her pulse point feels ridiculously good. Then there's soft kisses moving up towards her ear, and wow those lips are soft.

"Come back to my room with me," the voice whispers huskily in her ear.

Before she takes a moment to let her mind catch up with her body, she's nodding in agreement, and a hand is pulling her through the crowd towards the exit.

Fifteen minutes later and she's not exactly sure how she got here, or where here even  _is_ , but there's a mouth over her bra-covered breast and she's whining with impatience. She needs her clothes off, and why haven't her clothes been taken off yet?

Ah, yes, good, that damn bra is finally gone and she can feel lips wrap around her nipple and suck, unhindered by cloth. A hand reaches up to her other breast, and nimble fingers tweak and pinch and lavish attention.

She knows that she should care, that she should stop or at least pause. But this feels  _so_  fucking good.

God no wonder Santana fell in love with Brittany. If it felt anything remotely like this, San didn't have a shot in hell in enjoying Puck or any other dude after being with Britt.

Oh hey, wow, yeah, this is totally a girl. Good, that's good. No worrying about condoms, and twice as likely to actually get off.

Actually, make that ten times more likely because  _fuck_  this girl is talented with her tongue.

Through the foggy haze of lust and inebriation, she hears a sultry voice whisper in her ear, "I need you to give permission. I know you're drunk. We're both drunk. Whatever. But I'm not doing shit until I hear a solid yes from you at least."

"Yes,  _god_  yes, I just need to feel you right now."

"Mmmm good. Say no more."

And then she does feel her. She feels her  _everywhere_ , and maybe now she actually understands why people fixate on this so much. Because for the first time in her life, her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and her entire abdomen is tensing, and she's pulling someone impossibly closer rather than impatiently waiting for them to back away because why would you  _ever_  push someone away who's making you feel this good.

All of a sudden the sensations spike ridiculously higher, and she feels her jaw extend open and her head snap back, and this sound that she swears can't be hers tears from her throat.

She feels  _everything_.

Then it all fades to nothing.

**XXxxXX**

Her head is pounding even though she's had three full glasses of water and two advil. Her one saving grace is that she's finally back in her own room at least.

She's in too far over her head. There's a lot of shit that she's learned to deal with on her own in life, but  _this_  is not one of them.

The speaker rings in her ear twice before she hers a voice come through on the other line.

"Hello?"

She tries to speak, but her tongue sticks in her throat.

"Quinn, you there?"

She clears her throat, and forces her words out. "I messed up." There. Actual words. Good.

"What are you talking about?"

All she can think about, the only thing her brain can focus on, is what leaks out of her mouth. "I messed up  _big time_."

"Oh fuck, Q. What did you do? I  _told_  you to call me yesterday if you needed me. In case you didn't understand, that meant call me  _if you're considering something stupid_!"

"Please, San. Stop," Quinn tells her quietly, voice wavering with tears. "I need you to not yell at me right now, because I already have an insane headache, and I need your  _help_ and I just can't handle a pissed off Santana right now."

Immediately Santana's voice softens, laced with worry. "Okay. Okay shh I'm done yelling. What's goin on, Quinn?"

"I hooked up with someone last night," she admits, barely a whisper. If Santana weren't paying close attention, she would have missed it entirely.

There's silence for a moment and then Santana says, "Q, I just need to clarify because you and I tend to have different definitions for things, and I need to make sure you're saying what I think you're saying. When you say hook up…"

"I had sex with someone last night, San," she says softly. Quinn cringes even as the words leave her mouth.

"Holy  _shit_!"

"San!"

"I'm sorry! But Quinn fucking Fabray hooked up with a random! Or at best an acquaintance. I mean shit, Q, you've barely been there a week.  _No one_  is more than an acquaintance at this point."

Quinn honestly doesn't know what to say to her. She's starting to wonder what she even hoped to get out of this conversation, but she knows it's not this.

"Oh fuck,  _please_  tell me you were at least safe, Quinn."

Immediately, she blushes red at the comment. "Well, I mean…"

"Don't you fuck with me, Fabray! If you didn't use a condom, I swear to God imma fly up to New Haven and go  _all_  Lima Heights on your ass!"

Santana starts ranting in Spanish, voice increasing in volume.

"San! Santana! San, stop it! I didn't…we…" God this is gonna be embarrassing. "I didn't have to worry about condoms, San."

"What are you talking about? Who the fuck cares if you're on the pill, Q? There  _are_  things other than pregnancy to be concerned about."

"No, San, you're not getting it. There was no…equipment involved that would require that kind of protection."

The line is dead quiet for a second and then-

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Did you hook up with a  _chick_ , Q?"

Quinn's face is a deep red by this point, and she's cringing so hard that her eyes are squeezed shut. Her silence is all the answer that Santana needs though.

"Goddamn, you  _did_! Holy…I can't believe this! Heterosexual former celibacy queen hooked up with a  _woman_  last night!"

"I…I get it, San. You're kind of freaking. But I can  _promise_  you that I'm freaking out more. So can you please get past the shock of it, so you can help me?"

"God, I'm sorry, Quinn. Maybe you should have called Britt. She would've just congratulated you and then calmed down your gay panic a bit."

"If I wanted to talk to B, I would have called her San. I need you."

"Okay, sorry. I'll just say quickly-  _congrats_! Okay, I'm getting serious now. How did this happen? I mean, not like, logistics. Obviously I don't need explanation for that. I mean, how did you end up in bed with a random girl?"

"I got invited to a frat party when I was at a coffee shop yesterday. It was right after you texted me. I didn't want to deal with shit yesterday. I just wanted to let myself have fun and forget for a little while, ya know?"

"No I understand, Q. Let me make myself very clear- I am  _not_  judging you for this at  _all_. I'm just trying to understand, because it's  _you_  and this is not how you operate normally. That's all, okay?"

"Yeah okay."

"So you went to the party. Then what? Got crazy drunk?"

"Pretty much. I started drinking as soon as I got there because I didn't know anyone except the guy who invited me and I didn't want to feel awkward. Then I did some shots, and after that I started dancing. There were more shots in between, and after that everything just kind of happened."

"Do you remember? Or did you only realize when you woke up?"

"I remember. I actually held my liquor remarkably well, which was surprising. I remember less from later. But I do remember Pitbull and lots of tequila in my system."

"Pitbull?"

"Yeah, you know,grab somebody sexy tell em hey," she sings, feeling like an idiot.

Santana barks out a laugh, "Well, looks like you took  _that_  one to heart. I mean, not to get sidetracked from your obvious distress. But,  _was_  she hot?"

At first, she thinks that she's not going to get an answer out of her. But then she hears, "She would have made me feel insecure about my appearance in high school."

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." Quinn doesn't provide any further response.

"Can I admit something to you without you getting defensive and pissed?"

"No guarantee, but I guess, yeah."

"I've always kind of wondered about you. If you were as one hundred percent hetero as you tried to make yourself seem. I mean, it's okay if you  _are_  straight, and you were just insanely drunk and maybe a tiny bit curious last night. I get it."

"That's why I called you, San." Quinn has never sounded more timid and unsure to her in her life.

"Q?"

"I don't remember things in detail from late last night. But one thing I do remember  _very_  clearly is thinking that I finally understood what the big deal about sex is. I never got why every one cared so much before."

"Have you…have you thought about what hooking up with a girl would be like before last night?"

It's quiet for a moment, but then she hears a very soft, "yes." It's a quiet statement, but a monumental admission.

"It's okay, Quinn. I know you're freaking out, but it's not as bad as you probably are thinking it is. You're gonna be fine. Don't feel like you need to label yourself. But, if putting a label on this  _would_  help, we can talk labels. It's up to you."

"Liking girls isn't…new to me. During freshman year, I thought it was just comparing body image in the locker room. But then I saw you and Britt kissing one time and I knew it was more than that. I'm attracted to guys emotionally I guess, and I'm attracted to the security and acceptance that relationships with them provide. But I think…I think I've always been more sexually attracted to girls, San."

Santana exhales loudly, trying to process all of this new information and answer with care. "You sound…much less freaked out about this than I was expecting. Like, even though it's a secret, you seem to be somewhat at peace with it."

"I am. I'm still trying to figure things out, but I'm in such a better place than I was early on in high school. I'm not at the point where I want to label this, or share it with others. But I've learned to accept a lot of it in my own head at least."

Suddenly, something makes sense to Santana that she didn't realize before. "You're not really freaked out because you hooked up with a girl, are you? You're upset because you had meaningless sex with a stranger. It's not the girl part that's bothering you. It's the hook up part of it, isn't it?"

"Yeah." When she hears it out loud, from someone else, that's when everything about last night fully connects in her mind and she can't hold back the tears.

Santana can hear her crying through the phone. "Shh, you're gonna be alright, Quinn. Everyone does things that they regret. It's a part of life. And it's definitely a part of college for a lot of people, from what I hear."

"I didn't want this though, San. I mean, in the moment I wanted the sex. And the girl was actually good about getting a clear voice of consent from me. But now that I'm myself again...this just…this isn't what I…" She doesn't even know how to explain this properly.

Santana is stuck trying to figure out why this is bothering her so much. Obviously, people have different views on the significance of sex, and Quinn has come from a conservative background. But Puck was a spontaneous hookup, even though she knew him, and she never reacted like this. Not until she found out about the pregnancy.

"Quinn, I'm not trying to sound like a bitch. But, why does this matter to you so much? Is there some specific reason why you're so upset about a random?"

"It wasn't supposed to be her," she chokes out.

"What do you mean?"

"My first time with a girl. It wasn't supposed to be like that." Her voice is now wavering, because of the crying.

"But what exactly is it, Quinn? I know you. I can tell it's more specific than that. What is it about this  _exactly_  that's ripping you up?"

"It shouldn't have been her. It shouldn't have some meaningless person. That's not how I've pictured it. That's not how I've dreamed about it."

"Tell me, Quinn."

Quinn is gripping her bedspread in her free hand, and her arms are slightly shaking. "That's not how I've imagined it. It's Rachel. It was supposed to be Rachel," she sobs out. As soon as the admission escapes her throat, she freezes. This can't be happening. Santana did not just get her to admit it, to realize the heart of the issue. She can't know. She isn't allowed to know.

Santana's mouth hangs open in silence as she tries to process what Quinn just said. She knows when she can push Quinn, and she knows when she can't. If she teases her about this now, Quinn will absolutely break. She needs to be a real friend in this.

"You…you wanted it to be Rachel?" she asks hesitantly. "As in, Rachel Berry?"

She hears nothing on the line, except it's a different kind of silence than all the other moments from this conversation.

Santana pulls her cell away from her ear and checks the screen.

Quinn ended the call.


	6. Chapter 6

It's been 48 hours since she disconnected her call with Santana, and she  _still_  won't let it go. Santana is nothing if not persistent, and the seven voicemails and twelve text messages from the past two days are evidence of that.

As she exits her writing seminar and begins her walk across the campus green to grab some lunch, she hears her cell phone chime. She's willing to bet that it's Santana once again, but grudgingly checks her phone anyway.

When she sees the name on her screen, she freezes for an entirely different reason.

Rachel is calling her. Of course, she should have figured that ignoring the girl's attempt at communication since the start of the weekend would make her worried and impatient soon enough. She had sent her a simple text, some bullshit about being busy with something, to temporarily get her to ease up. But it appears that her time has now run out.

"Hey Rach," she answers with just the slightest tone of hesitation.

"Woah, you actually answered! I was just expecting to get your voicemail. You know those awkward moments when you call someone with your entire voicemail planned in your head, but then the other person actually answers the phone? Yeah, that's me right now. But, hi! Hi how are you?" Quinn laughs at Rachel's antics and takes a seat in the grass. She didn't realize just how much she had missed her bubbly overflowing personality these past couple of days.

How does she want to approach this though? Does she play it off like everything is fine, or at least give her a tip off that something's up?

"I've…been better. Had a bit of a rough weekend that I'd really rather not talk about now. I've missed you though, and I'm sorry we haven't talked the past couple days. How was your weekend?"

"Well, I went to my first college party." Quinn can't help but chuckle darkly at the irony. What are the odds? Of course, she seriously doubts Rachel woke up on Sunday morning with the same sort of memories that she did.

"Oh, and how was that?"

"Uncomfortable, to be honest. I didn't know many people there, and I didn't feel like drinking a lot. Naomi was there, which helped. And I did get to meet some of her classmates, so I guess it was alright. But within an hour, pretty much everyone there was drunk. And I've come to the conclusion that being in a room full of drunk people is only fun if you're drunk with them."

"Yep, that sounds about right."

"So things are still going well with Naomi?" Quinn forgets about her own roommate's existence most of the time, considering how infrequently the other girl is there, but she's curious about how things are for Rachel.

"Yeah, they really are. She makes me laugh, and she doesn't take anything too seriously. I can already tell that she'll help me immensely once school becomes more rigorous and my stress level rises. I think having her around will be good for me."

"I'm glad." Quinn doesn't add anything further, instead focusing on a few stray leaves blowing across the grass. Flashes of her phone call with Santana are seeping into her mind, and she's trying to keep them at bay. Rachel  _can't_  know that anything is off. If she senses anything, Quinn will be done for.

"Well, I didn't just call to catch up with you. I was actually wondering what your plans are for this weekend. I was thinking maybe you could come down here to New York. I wouldn't mind going to New Haven, except I know Naomi is totally fine with you staying here while I know you don't talk to your roommate much. Also, it might be fun to be in the city for the weekend. What do you think?"

Oh shit. Quinn panics for a moment, before she realizes that this could actually be a good thing. Maybe some actual time with Rachel will help to clear the air. She needs to fully remind herself of her friendship will Rachel, and exactly why it's not worth sacrificing it for the possibility of something more. She needs to erase that girl from Saturday night from her mind, and she needs to move forward again.

"I'd love to. I'm guessing you've already researched the logistics of travelling?" she asks with a smile.

"I have. It looks like the Peter Pan bus company is going to be the cheapest option that's still safe and not shady. There's a commuter bus that goes from New Haven to Hartford in the late afternoon, and then there's a second bus to take to get to New York City. If you take the bus at 4:10 from New Haven, you'd get to Hartford by about 5:30. Then you could take the 6 pm bus to the city, which arrives at approximately 8:30. It's a ridiculous amount of travel time for a distance of hardly 80 miles, but unfortunately there are several different stops along the way. This appears to be the best option though."

"It's alright, Rach. I don't mind spending time on a commuter bus. I can just get my homework done on the way so I don't have to worry about it as much when I'm with you. My last class on Friday is done by 2, so I'll definitely be able to take that first commuter bus around 4. What's the cost for everything?"

"Both bus trips both ways work out to about fifty dollars total." Rachel actually sounds a little nervous as she tells her the sum, and possibly guilty.

"Don't worry about it, Rachel. Considering this is the east coast and I'm travelling into a major city, that's actually a  _really_  good price. I got a ton of money for graduation from relatives, and I saved it to use for visiting you. Fifty bucks is well worth it, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Once you're in the city, it's just an easy subway ride to get to my school. Since you're a student, that'll only cost a little over a dollar."

"And I just get the bus ticket online?"

"Yes you can book it online. Just go to the Peter Pan website."

"Okay, then I'll book my tickets when I get back to my room."

Rachel squeals in excitement when their plans are solidified. "I can't believe I get to see you this weekend! You have no idea how excited I am to see you! And for you to meet Naomi! And I get to show you all around campus, and we can go explore the city, and oh my gosh this is going to be the best weekend!" She sounds like she's practically bouncing with excitement. She probably is.

Her enthusiasm is infectious and soon Quinn is grinning broadly as well.

Just as Rachel continues her excited rant, a monotone beep in her ear alerts Quinn that she has another caller trying to get through. When she sees who it is on the screen, she resigns herself to just getting this conversation over with. It's going to happen eventually no matter what. Santana is annoyingly persistent like that.

"Rach, Santana is calling in right now and I've actually been needing to call her back. I'll check in with you soon and confirm the details for this weekend, okay?"

"Okay! Bye Quinn! Agh I'm so excited!"

Quinn says a quick goodbye and then switches over to Santana's call.

"Hey San."

"About fucking time you answered my call, Q."

"Hello to you too."

"Look, you've had a full two days to avoid me and freak out on your own. But we're done with that now. You're gonna talk. Because I know you. And even though I know that you regret telling me, you don't regret that I know. Because even though you're pissed as hell that I know your secret, you're also relieved that you have someone else to go to now. So cut the bullshit. And talk to me Q."

She loathes how well Santana knows her. Rachel may be her best friend, but no one understands how her twisted mind works better than Santana does.

Quinn sighs loudly and lies back on the grass, resting her arm over her eyes. "What you want me to say, San?"

"Well on Sunday you admitted that you've wanted to fuck Rachel for a while, so why don't we start there? When the hell did  _that_  all start?"

"God, do you have to be so crude all the time?" Hearing Santana reduce her ridiculously complex feelings for the girl down to the simple desire to fuck her makes her seethe with barely restrained anger. "And what makes you think that I have to share  _any_  of this with you?"

"You don't have to do anything. But clearly this has been on your mind for a long time, and I know you need a friend to hash this out with after the shit that went down this weekend. Even if you'll never admit to needing me. Just get it out, Quinn. I promise I won't make fun of you. I'll just try to understand so I can help  _you_  understand, alright?"

Quinn doesn't say anything for several moments, and Santana begins to doubt that she's going to say anything.

"Sophomore year."

"What?"

"You asked how long. I've wanted her since sophomore year."

"Of  _high school_? Are you  _serious_?"

"I've got no motivation to lie anymore."

"But, Quinn, that was like,  _ages_  before you guys became friends. I mean, sophomore year. You still  _hated_  her then."

"Never in my life have I hated Rachel Berry. Resented her presence in my life because of what she made me feel? Absolutely. But I've never hated her. I never  _could_  hate her, even if I wanted to."

Santana is silent for a moment, until realization dawns upon her. "Oh my  _god_ , that was it all along, wasn't it? You've always had a thing for her. The only part that's changed is how you deal with it."

"Pretty much," she responds quietly.

"You don't just want to bang her, do you?"

"I wish it was that simple. That's how it was at first. Just sexual attraction. Attraction that made me want to shove her up against the lockers, except I'm not even sure if it would be to kick her or to kiss her. But then Glee happened, and I started to see her as an actual person. From a distance, yeah, but still a person."

"And when you finally became good friends last year?"

"I just couldn't stay away from her anymore, and I certainly couldn't treat her like crap. I just reached the point where I would rather have her as a close friend than never have her at all. Even if Finn was the one she loved, at least I could be someone she cared for, someone she relied upon."

"Whatever happened with Finnocence anyway? All that drama happened with him wanting to join the army and shit, but no one ever got the full story on what happened. Did she ever tell you?"

"She did. I don't want to get into details now, but basically she broke it off because she knew it wouldn't last. Even if he didn't enlist, Rachel was still coming to New York. And to be honest, I think her feelings for him started to fade way back when we returned from winter break. Once she got her early acceptance to NYADA, she just knew it was a sinking ship, I guess."

"So it's been months now. Clearly she's over him. Why haven't you made a move?"

Quinn stares unseeing at the clouds passing by above her and clenches her fingers around her cell phone. "No. No way. I'm not making any move. I haven't so far, and I don't plan to in the future."

"Why the fuck not?" Santana asks loudly, frustrated.

"Because I care about her too much. It would kill me to lose her, San. Absolutely kill me. It's hard enough maintaining a friendship with her when she's eighty miles away. Can you imagine how we'd last if I made a move and then things got awkward between us? Or even worse, what if we  _did_  date for a while but then the inevitable messy breakup happened? I'd rather never have her in that way than know what it's like only to lose it. And all of that is in addition the very obvious fact that she's not into girls."

Santana is rolling her eyes throughout Quinn's rant, but when she hears her state Rachel's sexual preference as fact, she cuts her off. "Quinn, why should that matter? Personally, I think she's way more fluid than you give her credit for. But even if she's not, you're the exception, Q. You always have been. I can't even tell you how many times I've heard Berry call you pretty or beautiful. It was annoying as hell. I understand your reasons for being chicken shit, but Rachel's sexuality should  _not_  be one of them."

Quinn feels a small tear of frustration and pent up emotion slide down the side of her temple. This is exactly why she didn't want to have this conversation. Because it's making her think about all of the things that she can never ever have, and it hurts like hell.

"Yeah, well, even if she would possibly consider being with a girl, I'm not doing anything. I refuse to risk what I have with her, San."

"But doesn't not knowing drive you insane? I think at least a small part of you would consider going for it. You wanna know why?"

"Why?" Quinn asks quietly, sick of thinking about all this.

"Because just the other day you told me that you always thought your first time with a girl would be Rachel. That doesn't sound like someone who has no intention of acting on her feelings. If a part of you actually thought you'd have a first time with Rachel at some point, then a part of you thought that you'd eventually be brave enough to tell her how you feel."

"Screw you." She  _hates_  it when Santana is right.

"No thanks. I've got a smoking hot girl here that I'd rather be with, and apparently so do you."

Quinn is now quietly crying, and tears leak down the sides of her head into her short hair. "I just can't, San. I've always been a coward when I need to be brave, and that hasn't changed."

"So what are you going to do when she starts dating again?" Quinn makes a small noise of discontent, but is otherwise silent. "She's in a college, Quinn, in a place where a shit ton of talented people will appreciate her and  _her_  talent. She's going to find someone eventually. And then what? What will you do then?"

"I'll be her best friend, and I'll support her. Assuming the guy isn't a totally asshole."

"That's bullshit, Quinn!" Santana yells into the phone. "You know what? I can't help you if you've set your mind on this. I know you're gonna regret it, and you're gonna call me in tears after she calls you all excited and tells you about a new boy she likes. Or girl. Whatever. Point is, it won't be you. And it's gonna fucking tear you apart."

"Will you answer when I make that call?" she asks, vulnerable, quiet.

"Always, Q. I'll definitely say I told you so and then probably yell at you for a while. But I'll answer. Of course I'll answer. For your sake though, I hope you get enough courage that we never have to have that phone call in the first place."

"What if it ruins everything, S?" In her mind, she runs through every possible scenario that could result from confessing the truth.

"What if it's the best thing that ever happens to you?" Santana answers.

**XXxxXX**

She's got a duffle bag in the compartment above, a backpack at her feet, and a copy of  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_  sitting on her lap. Despite the emotional turmoil of the past few days, she can't help the smile that illuminates her face as they cross over a bridge and she catches her first glimpse of New York City since their nationals trip last spring.

When her bus pulls into the port and hisses out its brake, she slings her bag over her shoulder and impatiently waits to exit the vehicle.

A couple minutes later, and she's entered an indoor terminal and is heading towards the escalator that will take her down to the subway.

It's a straight shot down the orange line to the 6th avenue station, and soon the subway is screeching to a stop at her exit. It's a little before nine pm as she's pulling out her phone and calling the first number on her speed dial.

"Hey, it's me. I just got off the subway at 6th ave."

"I'm right at the top of the stairs."

"Okay, see you in a sec."

Quinn is grinning from ear to ear as she grips her duffel bag close to her side and quickly ascends the stairs.

When she gets to the top, she inhales the wet city air around her and darts her head around, trying to spot her.

It takes less than a second though, because she hears someone excitedly yell out "Quinn!" to her right and then she's jogging over to the girl wearing an adorable red sweater.

As soon as she's within a couple feet of her, Rachel launches herself into her arms. Her small hands wrap tightly around Quinn's neck, and in turn Quinn loops her arms around Rachel's waist to pull her completely against her.

She leans her head down slightly and buries her face at the side of Rachel's neck, allowing herself to get lost in brunette locks.

" _God_ , I've missed you," the smaller girl breathes into her ear.

She squeezes the girl's waist in response, and then pulls back to look at her. Quinn brushes a few strands of hair to the side of Rachel's face, and then looks into warm brown eyes.

"I've missed you too."

Rachel's smile right now might be the greatest thing Quinn has seen in weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger Warning and Disclaimer:** This chapter contains strong allusions to abortion through discussion of Planned Parenthood. The views/thoughts expressed in this chapter are those that I believe to be true to the respective characters, and are not necessarily a reflection of my own beliefs.

Rachel's whole face lights up with a smile, and Quinn can't help but smile back. She adores talking to Rachel and skyping with her, but nothing can compare to the real deal. The two are so caught up in actually being with each other again, that Quinn fails to notice a third person.

Naomi stands to the side, clad in a rainbow t-rex hoodie and black worn out converse, and watches the scene play out before her eyes. She's heard Rachel mention this Quinn girl here and there. After all, Quinn's her best friend, and there have been several occasions where she's been around Rachel while she's talking with this girl. She's heard a few things about Quinn, but not a lot.

However, there are a couple of things that are immediately clear, things that Rachel has failed to disclose to her.

First, Quinn Fabray is ridiculously attractive. Like, this girl should come with some kind of disclaimer.

Second, she's totally got a thing for Rachel.

The way that her whole face is glowing right now, and the way that she wrapped her arms so intimately around Rachel's waist. Hell, she just  _smelled_  her  _hair_  a second ago. Something is going on there. Now exactly what that something is, and if it's a something that Rachel reciprocates, she's not sure of yet. But now she's curious and she is determined to find out what the deal is here.

Yeah, this weekend just got a lot more interesting.

Rachel starts to blush slightly under the close scrutiny of Quinn's attention, so she deflects her gaze to the sidewalk and takes a small step back.

"Quinn, this is my roommate, Naomi. Naomi, meet Quinn." Rachel gestures between the two of them and Quinn holds her hand out for the other girl to shake.

"It's nice to meet you," she says politely, trying not to get distracted by the girl's hair.

Naomi returns the handshake and responds, "You too. I've heard quite a bit about you, though Rachel never mentioned how stunning you are."

In any other situation, the comment would seem mildly inappropriate and super uncomfortable. But Naomi says it with such kindness and honesty, it's like she's just stating fact, not awkwardly attempting some kind of come on at Rachel's best friend.

Quinn laughs lightly, slightly self-conscious. "Thanks…I think."

Naomi turns to look at Rachel. "Now I'm curious what Santana and Brittany look like."

Rachel can tell that Naomi is just messing around and making jokes (though she probably really does want to see pictures now). She's used to her roommate's personality, but Quinn isn't and she doesn't want things to be uncomfortable for her.

"Naomi decided to walk here with me, because it's starting to get a little late and I didn't want to be walking by myself," Rachel explains.

"Thank you," she says with sincerity. "I'm glad Rachel's not walking in the city by herself at night."

"It's no prob. Can I carry your duffel bag for you or something?"

Quinn smiles at her thoughtfulness and shrugs the bag off her shoulder. It actually was starting to weigh her down, and this way she can more easily walk close to Rachel.

"Thanks." Naomi nods in response, accepting the bag, and then digs her phone out of her pocket when it starts to ring.

"Hello?...Yeah, I just picked up my roommate's friend with her…I'm not sure let me ask," Naomi holds the speaker away from her cheek and asks Rachel, "Did you want to take Quinn to get some food? Mitch is gonna meet me wherever we go so we can head to the party together."

Rachel looks up at Quinn, "Are you hungry?"

Quinn nods, biting her lip. It's hard to believe that Rachel is actually here in front of her. "I haven't eaten since lunch."

"Is Italian okay for you? There's a little place across from campus that I hear is good. It's not vegan friendly, but I've already eaten."

"Yeah that's fine." Naomi, listening to the entire exchange, puts the phone back to her ear. "We're going to walk to Pomodoro's, right by campus. I'll meet you there in ten…Okay, bye."

Rachel gives Quinn a light one-armed hug.

"I'm just so glad you're actually here," she says by way of explanation. Then she links her arm through Quinn's, as if this is totally normal, and it kind of is for them.

Except she doesn't notice Naomi's subtle eyebrow raise, as her roommate shoulders Quinn's bag and observes the two with interest.

"So how was the bus ride?" Rachel asks her, leaning her head against the side of Quinn's shoulder as they start walking down the sidewalk back to campus.

**XXxxXX**

They're sitting on the floor together with their backs resting against Rachel's bed, just enjoying each other's company and catching up in person as Quinn finishes her pesto linguine.

"Do you want to take a shower? I imagine you feel grimy after being on public transportation and travelling all afternoon." Quinn looks at Rachel in amusement, as she watches the mild horror at the thought of all the germs flicker across her face.

A hot shower actually sounds wonderful right now, and Rachel directs her to their community bathroom to use after Quinn has gathered the things that she needs.

Twenty minutes later, Quinn re-enters the room wearing striped pajama pants and a purple tank top. Her short hair is fluffed out but still wet, and Rachel bites her lip. Seeing Quinn like this, so casual and relaxed with no make-up, reminds her of just how far they've come in their relationship. There was a time when  _no one_  saw Quinn like this, and she can't help but feel incredibly lucky that she has become one of the few chosen people who gets to see this Quinn.

"Your showers have awful water pressure," she says as she slings her towel to dry over Rachel's tiny closet door.

"Ugh I know." Rachel is sitting cross-legged on her bed with one ear bud in, flicking through songs on her ipod. When she notices Quinn's prolonged silence and the fact that the girl is still standing in the middle of the room, she glances up. "What?"

"Umm…" she might be mistaken, but it looks like Quinn has a faint blush in her cheeks. "Where am I going to sleep tonight, Rach?"

"On my bed, of course!" she says it like it's the most obvious thing ever. "What, you think I'm going to make you sleep on the floor or something?"

Quinn chews her lip, brows furrowed in confusion. "But what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where will you sleep then?"

"On my bed…?" She doesn't understand why Quinn looks so confused right now.

"But…you have a single bed, Rachel. Granted, it's a tad wider than a standard single, but it's still a single."

Ah, so that's what this is about. "So? We've cuddled before. I guess one of us can sleep on the floor if you need more space, but I don't have a sleeping bag." Now she feels guilty for not thinking this through. Quinn came all the way out here to see her. She at least needs to be comfortable.

Quinn's cheeks are tinted pink more so than before, but she shakes her head. "No, uh, it's fine. I just wanted to be sure. Ya know. Before I totally invaded your sleeping space."

Rachel sets her ipod on the window ledge, then lays back on her pillow and scoots toward the wall to make room for Quinn.

She stands there for a moment, until Rachel pats the empty space next to her, and Quinn crawls up beside her.

They're laying side by side, shoulders touching, and Rachel shifts down slightly to rest her head against Quinn's shoulder with her hands folded across her own stomach. Quinn smells like lilac and some other scent that she can't quite identify, and she can't help but snuggle a little more into Quinn's warmth.

"So what do you think of Naomi?"

She feels like her tongue is stuck in her throat because of Rachel's proximity. Wearing a tank top was  _not_  a good move, because now she can feel Rachel's cheek against her bare shoulder and her warm breath over her neck. She feels so awkward with her arms lying straight along her sides, so she maneuvers her arm underneath Rachel's neck to wrap around her shoulders.

Rachel doesn't seem at all phased by this change in position, and just turns to accommodate so that she's lying on her side and lightly resting her arm against Quinn's abdomen.

Oh great,  _really_  smart move, Fabray. Quinn chastises herself as the placement of their bodies becomes even more intimate than it was a moment ago.

It takes her a second to remember that Rachel just asked her a question. "She's really nice, Rach. I'm glad that you have a good roommate. I was worried about that for you." Rachel shifts her head up off of Quinn's shoulder to look in her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, so many things didn't go right for you in high school. You deserved to have a great roommate for college. I'm glad it's working out."

She smiles softly, and then settles back down onto Quinn's shoulder. "How are things with your roommate? You never really talk about her."

"That's because she's never there. Seriously, the only time she's there is when she sleeps."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's nice to have my space."

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment, and Quinn ever so softly traces the pad of her thumb back and forth on Rachel's shoulder.

"I miss my dads," Rachel admits it quietly, like she's embarrassed of this truth.

Quinn rubs her shoulder comfortingly, and Rachel burrows herself closer to her.

"To be honest, I was expecting you to say this sooner. You haven't mentioned them much since you got here."

"I didn't want to seem childish. I'm glad that I'm here in the city. It's just hard, you know?"

This, this right here, is what Quinn has missed. She's missed being able to hold Rachel and comfort her in person when she isn't her bright and bubbly self. She's missed being there for the times when Rachel needs her best friend. And right now, lying in Rachel's bed and holding her in her arms, it's perfect. She can't help but think about her conversation with Santana, and her friend's insistence that Quinn do something about her feelings. She would do anything to be able to run her other hand along Rachel's cheek and pull the girl's face towards her, to feel soft warm lips slide against her own and comfort Rachel in her homesickness. But that's not how this works. Rachel would be at best very confused and at worst completely repulsed. So she settles for lifting her hand from Rachel's shoulder and running it through her long wavy strands of hair.

"Well, I can't speak from experience. My parents care enough to pay for college, but we've never been close. I can understand why you would miss them though. You're very close to your parents."

"I am. My entire life they've done nothing but support who I am and who I want to be. I wouldn't be the person that I am today without them."

"So it doesn't bother you that you were adopted?"

"Not at all." Rachel is confused by this turn in conversation, until she realizes that Quinn's not really thinking about Rachel's parents anymore.

"You miss Beth, don't you?" Rachel asks her softly.

"Yeah," she whispers back. "She's…been on my mind a lot this past week."

"Is that why you had a bad weekend last week?"

Quinn inhales a shaky breath, and her hand stills in Rachel's hair. "I have to tell you something."

Immediately, Rachel can sense that this conversation is about to get serious. She grips Quinn's waist lightly and shifts her head a little closer, almost like she's giving her a hug even though they're lying down.

"Are you okay?"

"Better than I was. I have to tell you something. It's something that happened a while ago, and right now Santana is the only one who knows." Rachel can't help but feel a little jealous, even though she's long moved past being in competition with Santana over Quinn's friendship. "But I want to tell you," she continues, "because it will help you to understand more of me. I made you a promise that I would eventually explain my past and my behavior to you in high school, and this is a part of that. It also may be important for me to be able to explain some other things…later."

Images of nails raking down her back and moans filling the air flicker through her head, before she forces that train of thought out. If by some miracle she's ever brave enough to tell Rachel what happened last weekend, she'll need this to explain her reasons for what happened at the party.

"Okay…" She can tell that Rachel is anxious for her to talk, but Quinn has to admire how patient she is being for her.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I felt like my life was over. Everything that I had hoped for, everything I had planned for my future, felt like it was all disappearing. You know that I got kicked out, and you know that I eventually decided to give her up for adoption. But what you don't is…I considered not keeping her."

Quinn's voice is so soft and broken, that Rachel is thankful she's close enough to her to be able to hear properly. She grips Quinn's waist tighter at what Quinn might be alluding to, but in a huge demonstration of self-control, she keeps quiet and allows Quinn to keep talking.

"When everyone found out, they just assumed that I had always planned to keep the baby, because of my family and how I've been raised. No one stopped to realize how alone I was at that point in my life, and how completely and utterly terrified I was by the whole situation." Rachel feels a tiny bit of moisture on her forehead and she realizes that Quinn is crying above her and a couple of stray tears have reached her own forehead.

"I stayed home pretending to be sick for two days after I found out I was pregnant. I cried almost non-stop and tried to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Finally, I called Santana and I didn't even realize that it was like 2 am. She was the closest thing I had to a real friend at that time. I told her I was pregnant, that the baby was Puck's and not Finn's, and…I asked her to make me an appointment at Planned Parenthood."

Rachel sucks in a breath, but stays silent. She knows that Quinn just needs to get this out, and her interrupting won't help anything.

"Santana was…amazing. About everything. It's one of the reasons why we became genuine friends. She made me an appointment for that weekend and drove me fifty five miles to Springfield because that was the closest location. We got there, and we were sitting in the waiting room together, and I just…I couldn't do it. I panicked. I told San we had to leave. She didn't ask me any questions. She just grabbed her purse, told the lady at the desk we were leaving, and walked me out."

"Wow." Rachel has absolutely no idea what to say.

"I cried the whole way home, because that's when I realized just how stuck I was. I realized that eliminating the pregnancy would be harder on me emotionally then giving Beth up once she was born. At least, that's what I thought at the time. I don't know if that's true anymore. And I'll never know. But every year, the day of that appointment comes around, and for some reason it's harder to me than Beth's birthday. That day is the day where I made the hardest decision of my life, and it's also the day when the reality of my pregnancy actually hit me. It was a lot to deal with. Santana saved me that day, that's for sure."

Quinn breathes out a sigh of relief once she's completed her story. Rachel has tears in her eyes too, but she blinks rapidly to keep them at bay. This is about Quinn, not her. To everyone else, Quinn's pregnancy was a nine-month ordeal. But to Quinn, it's something that she carries with her, even now when Beth is a toddler.

"I suddenly have a whole new respect for Santana," Rachel speaks into her neck.

"Yeah. She always remembers too. Every year. A year after the appointment, she's the one who found me lying down on the school track because my legs gave out after running thirteen miles. And last year, she's the one who took me to dye my hair pink that day."

"Seriously?" Rachel lifts her head up to look into Quinn's eyes.

"Yeah. She told me the only reason she was okay with it was because it would be worth it to see everyone's reactions when school started on Monday." Rachel laughs and runs her fingers through Quinn's now blonde hair.

"Well, she got that right. I almost tripped over my own foot when I first saw you."

"Because I looked ridiculous?" Quinn smiles and wipes the remaining tears from her cheeks.

"No. Because you looked like such a badass." Quinn just gives her an amused look, complete with her patent Fabray eyebrow arch. "Seriously, Q. I love your sense of style now, but every so often I miss your grunge look and that wild pink hair. It was too short lived."

"Uh huh."

"In all seriousness though, thank you for telling me. I know it must have been hard to tell me this, and I can't even  _imagine_  how hard that day was for you originally. And just know that I don't judge you for your decisions about Beth. I don't judge you for giving her up, and I wouldn't have judged you if you kept your appointment. It's your life, and you dealt with Puck's irresponsible choice in the way that you deemed best for you."

"Thank you." Sometimes, when Rachel says things like this, it's so hard not to lean over and just kiss her. Especially now, with how close they are in Rachel's  _bed_  of all places. Her  _single_  bed, for the record.

"Why don't we get some sleep now? I can tell you're exhausted, and we've got a fun day in the city ahead of us tomorrow. Naomi won't be back until super late, and that's if she doesn't stay at her friend's place."

"Sleep. Yeah, sleep sounds good." Rachel crawls over Quinn to get up and turn the lights off, then walks back over to the bed and nudges her. "Move up and get under the covers."

After some slight rearranging and lots of rustling around, they're finally settled.

"Goodnight, Quinn." Rachel's foot accidentally runs up along Quinn's calf when she shifts, and Quinn shivers involuntarily.

"'Night, Rach."

**XXxxXX**

Naomi fumbles with her keys in the hallway for a moment before quietly slipping through the door and stepping into their dark dorm room. It's 3 am, and she's a little buzzed. But she's not a heavy drinker, and it's been over an hour since her last drink.

She's certainly sober enough to notice the two girls in Rachel's bed. The lights of the city from the window illuminate the room a tiny bit, and she can see that they're spooning. Quinn has her arm lightly draped over Rachel's waist, and her face is buried in Rachel's hair at the back of her neck.

Naomi smiles at how adorable the two of them look together, and wonders if they went to bed that way or if that happened subconsciously later on in the night.

She decides to set her alarm for 7:30 am despite the late hour, just so she can be awake and see what happens when they wake up.

She'll just tell Rachel she forgot to turn off her alarm for the weekend and then go back to sleep after she watches what's sure to be an awkward and hilarious encounter in the morning.

Maybe that's wrong. But if it is, she doesn't want to be right. They're just too cute.

Operation 'get Rachel to realize Quinn's feelings for her' is a go.


	8. Chapter 8

Somewhere in the near area she faintly registers the sound of an annoying chime dinging, but she is so not a morning person and that noise needs to shut the hell up.

The noise only grows louder though, and she lets out a disgruntled whine, burrowing closer towards the warmth.

"Umm…Quinn?" The voice sounds like it's  _right_  by her ear and she snaps her eyes open in confusion.

She's met with a warm brown gaze mere inches from her face, and she notices Rachel's cheeks are tinted pink.

That's when she realizes that she's got one of her arms wrapped possessively over the girl's waist, forearm pressed against her lower back, and her legs are tangled intimately with smooth muscled warmth.

Immediately she jerks herself away from Rachel. Except she's forgotten that she is current lying on a single bed, and she goes toppling backwards over the edge.

Her back and head hit the floor with a loud thump, and she just wants to curl up in embarrassment and never ever stand up.

"Quinn! Are you okay?" She hears Rachel frantically call out from the bed above her.

She just groans in response, though Rachel mistakes it for pain rather than embarrassment and quickly slides off the bed to kneel next to Quinn. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine, Rach." Quinn's cheeks are burning red. "I just forgot how small the bed was and lost my balance."

Naomi is sitting up in bed, purple strands of hair sticking up in every direction possible, and watching the whole scene play out with amusement.

"Sorry, guys. Forgot to turn off my school day alarm."

"It's okay. I'm just…not a morning person," Quinn answers, voice thick from sleep, as she looks up from the small space between the two beds at her.

"Are you sure you're okay, Quinn?" Rachel has her hand against the back of Quinn's head, likely checking for some kind of bone contusions.

"I'm fine, I swear," she huffs, cheeks still tinged pink, as she shrugs Rachel's hand away.

They stand up together, and Rachel maneuvers Quinn back onto the bed to sit beside her.

"I…uh, sorry…for…being all up in your space like that. I'm…not used to sharing a bed, especially one so small. I guess you were just warm…and comfortable." Agreeing to the whole single bed scenario was  _so_  not a good idea. Although she guesses it could have been worse, maybe. She could have been groping Rachel in her sleep or something.

She shifts her eyes toward the carpet, too embarrassed to make eye contact with the girl sitting beside her.

"It's quite alright, Quinn. I didn't even notice until Naomi's alarm went off. You didn't disrupt my sleep cycle at all."

"Okay. Okay…that's good, I guess."

"Did you want to get some more sleep, or…?"

"No, uh, I don't think I could fall back asleep at this point."

"Why don't you just go get ready in the bathroom and stuff and then we can head downstairs to breakfast."

Quinn, eternally thankful for the out to this awkward situation, nods in agreement and quickly grabs her things before disappearing into the hallway.

She leans down and returns the blanket that fell to the floor back to her bed, and then glances over at Naomi. Her roommate's got this amused look on her face and she's smirking.

"What?" Rachel glances down at herself and around self-consciously. This just causes Naomi's face to break out into a full grin.

"Sleep well?" She asks with obvious mirth layered into her voice.

Rachel just furrows her brow in confusion. "Yes, in fact I did. Though the sleeping space was fairly restricted, I slept soundly."

"I bet," Naomi mumbles under her breath, before dropping her head back into her pillow.

"What-"

"I'm going back to bed, unlike you insane people getting up before eight am on a Saturday. I got home at three. We'll talk later." The last part of her statement is muffled as she buries her face into her pillow.

When it's clear that she's not going to hear anything more from her roommate, she makes her way over to her closet, trying to pick out an outfit for the day.

Why is everyone acting so strange this morning?

**XXxxXX**

Quinn seems to be her usual self again when she gets back to the room, and she quietly grabs her purse so that she and Rachel can leave Naomi to sleep while they head down to the dining hall.

A few minutes later, Quinn is contentedly sipping on a hot mug of coffee and Rachel is munching on a bowl of fresh fruit.

"So, New York City local, what's on the agenda for today?" she takes another long sip of her coffee and watches Rachel's eyes light up in excitement.

"Well, I was thinking that we could see some of the things that we didn't get to see the times that we came here for nationals. We didn't get to see the Statue of Liberty because Mr. Shue said it takes most of the day to get out there and look around. I understand if you don't want to waste all of your time here doing that. I know it's super stereotypical tourist, but I was thinking we could take the ferry out there to see the statue. Some of the tours include a tour of Ellis Island as well, which seems like a place that we would both enjoy." She rushes out her ideas, excitement making her trip over her words, and she looks intently at Quinn's face to gauge her reaction.

"That sounds like a lot of fun! I mean, it's not like this is the only time I'm going to be visiting you. We should see the tourist things together, even if you live here now. The Statue of Liberty sounds perfect, and the weather is still nice enough that it won't be too cold. I've always been intrigued by Ellis Island too."

Rachel beams, glad that her plan has been met with approval. That smile. How can anyone not be head over heels for this girl with that smile?

Rachel is wearing an adorable green pea coat and black leggings, knit hat atop her head. She deflects her gaze down to her half-eaten oatmeal before Rachel can notice her appraising glances.

**XXxxXX**

Thankfully the lines weren't as bad as they probably are during peak tourist season in the summer time, but it was still a relief when they finally got through all the lines and security and made it onto the ferry.

Now they're cruising away from Battery Park and are headed straight for Liberty Island. Quinn stands against the railing, smiling as she feels the wind whip through her hair and Rachel's back is leaning against her. She's willing to admit that she is actually genuinely excited about this. She never thought that this is what she would be doing with Rachel this weekend, but now that she is she's glad that Rachel had this idea.

The sky is an overcast grey, but no storm seems to be looming, and the fall wind is rushing against her skin. Rachel turns her head to glance back at her, eyes lit up with excitement.

"I think we'll be able to see it soon," she speaks loudly into Quinn's ear over the sound of the engine and the beating of the waves.

Rachel is right.

A couple of minutes later, she is able to see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. A few more minutes pass and she can now see the whole statue in better detail, framed against the New York City skyline.

She feels a warm hand connect with hers and squeeze softly. She gazes over at Rachel, brunette hair flying wildly in the wind beneath her hat, and sees that her eyes are shining. It might be from the wind, but she's pretty sure it's because of this moment.

Quinn feels the emotion build up in her chest too and squeezes her hand in response.

Sure, this tour might be kind of cliché.

But for two girls from Lima, Ohio who hoped beyond hope for grand things outside of their small town upbringing, this moment is  _special_.

They are in New York City, on their own, in front of  _the_  Statue of Liberty.

Quinn doesn't think she's ever felt more proud for the both of them.

When Rachel realizes that the statue will be overwhelmingly large once they actually reach the island, she taps a middle-aged woman on the shoulder.

"Excuse me? Do you think you could take a picture of my friend and I?"

"Sure!" Rachel sets her cell phone to camera mode and briefly informs the woman on how to take the picture.

"C'mere," Rachel tugs on Quinn's arm, all smiles, and loops her arms around the taller girl's waist. They stand hugging, beaming faces turned toward the woman holding Rachel's cell phone.

"1...2…3" she hears the soft click, and then the woman hands Rachel her phone to check and see how the picture turned out.

"Perfect! Thank you so much!" She immediately hits the save button on her phone. The Statue of Liberty stands in perfect visibility to the left behind them, and the waves of the water frame the background of the photo where the two girls are embracing each other.

"Can you text that to me now before we forget about it?" Rachel nods and sends a quick text to Quinn, so that she can have the photo saved in her phone as well.

Shortly after, their ferry reaches the dock and everyone is shuffling their way onto land. They decided not to pay to tour inside of the statue, since the tickets were nearly twice the cost, but it's amazing just to be here on the island.

There's a park area where they can walk around and look at the statue up close, and tourists mill about across the lawn.

"I can't believe this. It's the freaking Statue of Liberty!" Quinn exclaims, tilting her head back to take in the statue resting on its massive pedestal.

"Not bad for a couple of McKinley High graduates, huh?" Rachel asks playfully, leaning her head against Quinn's shoulder.

"Nope. Not bad at all." She smiles and wraps her arm around the smaller girl's shoulders, pulling her against her side more.

She may not be ready to tell Rachel everything yet. She's got so much of her past to work through, and she needs more time to summon the courage to share her feelings. But, right now, she can actually see it as a possibility. She can see a day in the future where she finally just comes clean. Because this girl that she's got leaning against her shoulder, this girl is one of a kind. And for the longest time, Quinn didn't consider herself worthy to be a part of this amazing person's life. She had resigned herself to her fate in Lima, content to let Rachel leave and go live a life that resonates across the city of dreams.

But out of all the people from McKinley High,  _she's_  the one holding Rachel in front of the Statue of Liberty. Not Finn, not Puck, and not Jesse. It's her. And that's got to count for something.

**XXxxXX**

"Ugh, I can't feel my feet anymore." Between the statue, Ellis Island, all the crazy lines, and the public transportation to get there, they're absolutely exhausted.

Quinn slowly trudges through the door of Rachel's room, and immediately lies flat on her back in the middle of the floor. Rachel sets down the Chinese take-out that they picked up on the way home and sprawls out next to her. At least, she sprawls out as well as she can in the small available floor space of their dorm room.

"I can't believe you actually got this hat." Rachel pulls out the styrofoam that's slightly sticking out of Quinn's bag. It's a seafoam green tiara type headband that looks like the top of Lady Liberty's head. Scrawled across the front of it are the imprinted words  **Liberty Island**  in cheesy font.

"I wanted something to remember the day by, some kind of souvenir. The guy sold it to me for three bucks at the subway stop. Don't hate on the hat. You know you're just jealous."

Rachel laughs in response and shoves the hat onto Quinn's head. "I suppose it does sort of suit you. Then again, you look good in pretty much anything, so."

The hat is slanted forward on her head, since Quinn is still lying on the floor and refuses to move, and the letters on the hat cover Quinn's forehead at a slant.

Before Quinn has the chance to stop her, Rachel snaps a quick picture of it on her cell phone. She captures the photo just in time to have Quinn squinting one eye open at her with the hat sitting crookedly on her head.

"Gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. This would have been yearbook material right here," she teases, saving the photo to her phone before Quinn can try to delete it.

"Raaaachhh." It's meant to be an intimidating display of frustration, but it comes out as more of a whine. "Delete that."

"Nope. Now sit up. I'm hungry and I wanna eat dinner with you."

Quinn grudgingly shifts around until she's brought herself to a sitting position, and Rachel hands her a carton of food.

"Why did you get the Thai peanut mixed vegetables, anyway? You've always been more of a Kung Pao chicken person."

Quinn feels her face flush a little at Rachel's comment. "I'm trying to go vegetarian when I'm with you. I can't do vegan, but I can at least give up meat when we're together."

She feels a slight tug in her chest at Quinn's admission. "Quinn, you don't have to go vegetarian for me. That's really sweet, but you don't have to give up meat just for me."

"I'm not giving up meat permanently. It's just when we're together. I don't know…don't think too much about it. It's not a big deal. It's just something that I wanted to do, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees hesitantly. "As long as you're not doing it for me out of some sense of obligation or guilt."

"It's not. I promise. Think of it as a…respect thing. For a couple of days, it doesn't make much difference to me, and then you don't have to watch me eat meat. Seriously, Rach, it's not a big deal." Quinn tries to brush it off and move on, taking a couple of bites of food instead.

Eventually Rachel just smiles and nods, when it's clear that this is something that Quinn has already set her mind to.

"So did you have fun today?" Rachel asks, taking a bite of her brown rice.

Even after all this time, occasionally she still feels like the rejected diva trying to gain acceptance from the head cheerio. It doesn't matter how good of a time they seem to have together; she just needs vocal confirmation sometimes.

"One of the best days of my life."

"Really?" She searches Quinn's eyes, trying to detect some indication of sarcasm but finding none.

"Really. Yale has been great, but I'm bummed that I have to leave you tomorrow. It went by too quickly."

"Yeah, it did. We spoiled ourselves by hanging out constantly over the summer. Now I miss you even when I talk to you all the time."

Quinn leans her head back against Naomi's bed and sits cross-legged near Rachel. "That's because it's not the same. Talking can never compare to actually hanging out together."

"I guess you're right. Sometimes I selfishly wish that you were at NYU or something just so you were closer. But it's so clear that Yale is where you need to be. It's the right place for you."

Quinn stirs her veggies and noodles around with her fork for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. "Can I ask your opinion on something?"

"Of course." She sets her container of food down, so that she can give Quinn her full attention.

"I've been looking at the services that the campus health center offers. And…I found out that Yale offers free student counseling. I'm thinking of making an appointment with a therapist there. It doesn't go into any files that my parents can see, since I'm over eighteen and there's doctor-patient confidentiality."

Rachel blinks in surprise, but tries to keep her facial expressions neutral. "Do you think you need therapy, Quinn?"

"I  _know_  I need therapy. I just knew that my parents would never go for it so I never bothered back home. But now that I'm away at school, and especially since it's free, I'm really thinking about giving it a try."

"If it's something that you think you need, then do it, Q. Is there something specifically that you want to talk to a professional about or is it more in general?"

"It's everything. Ever since I was in elementary school. There are so many things about myself and about my life that I've shoved to the back of my head so that I didn't have to deal with it. But I want to start dealing with it now. I want to move past it. And as much as I love talking to you and San, there's some things I just need professional help to work through."

Quinn clasps her hands together and stares at the carpet, almost as if she's embarrassed to be admitting her need for professional help.

"Quinn. Q, look at me." She glances up at Rachel shyly, roughly biting her lower lip between her teeth in nervousness. "It's alright. I think it's incredibly courageous of you to admit to needing help, help that friends alone can't provide. Admitting it doesn't make you weak, Quinn. It makes you strong. If you think that this has the potential to help you deal with the demons in your past, and you're at the point where you  _want_  help with this, then I think you should do it."

"Yeah?" She looks her in the eye, hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"C'mere." Rachel shuffles over until she's leaning against Naomi's bed right next to her and wraps both of her arms around Quinn. She keeps her arms in the same place until Quinn leans over and rests her head at the juncture of Rachel's neck and shoulder. Then she reaches one hand up and softly scratches her back, occasionally running her hand soothingly through blonde hair at the base of Quinn's neck.

"I love you," Quinn tells her softly. She knows that Rachel won't understand the multiple layers of feelings that are laced into those three simple words. The complex array of emotions and feelings that have her caught in some impossible place between  _I love you platonically_  and  _I am completely in love with you_. She's not quite sure exactly where she lands on the spectrum, but it doesn't matter because she knows that Rachel won't read into it.

"I love you too." Even though she knows that Rachel is completely unaware, just hearing that response is enough for now.

**XXxxXX**

After a nice Sunday brunch in the dining hall, Quinn is returning to the room to grab her belongings and head back to New Haven. The buses don't run as frequently on Sundays, and leaving in the early afternoon was the best option if she wanted to get back to campus at a decent hour.

Naomi is there waiting for them when they get back to the room, sitting on her bed and looking at her computer screen.

"You headed out?" she looks up when the two enter the room.

"Yeah, I gotta get back to the bus station." Naomi sets her laptop aside and stands up to face them. "It was nice to meet you, Quinn. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again soon." Naomi shakes her hand in farewell, but Quinn feels a piece of paper pass into her grip as she does so. She looks at Naomi in confusion, who simply mouths " _Later_."

She slips the paper into her pocket to investigate later on, and grabs her bags from Rachel's bed.

They walk to the 6th avenue subway station together, and Rachel is with her all the way to the steps. Once they're there, Rachel reaches up with no hesitation and wraps Quinn in a fierce hug. Her warm breath is against Quinn's ear as she tells her softly, "Please be safe. Text me when you get back to campus, okay?"

"I will." Quinn squeezes her tightly in response. "You'll be in New Haven soon, yeah?"

"Yeah." Rachel pulls back and gives her a brilliant smile, before kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand in farewell.

_Well that's new_.

Quinn's skin feels like it's tingling in the place where Rachel's lips just made contact, and she sucks in a shallow breath. "Bye, Rach."

A little while later, when she's finally on the bus from the city to New Haven, she pulls out her cell phone and scrolls to her messages.

The image of her and Rachel in front of the Statue of Liberty, holding each other close with smiles illuminating their faces, fills the screen of her iphone.

_Set photo to new wallpaper?_

_Yes._

Santana may call her a coward, but this weekend was still perfect.

Because even though she's got a best friend who is blind to her feelings, she's got two days of perfect memories and green styrofoam hat to bring back to Yale with her.


	9. Chapter 9

That evening, Naomi enters their room as Rachel is working her way through some of her assignments. She's got bright clashing colors of paint sticking to her forearms in a few places and a smudge near her ear.

"Been painting this afternoon?" Rachel glances up from her textbook when Naomi walks through the door.

"What gave it away?" she asks sarcastically with a smile, shrugging off her messenger bag and sinking into her desk chair.

Rachel is trying to work her way through an assignment for her class on playwriting, a requirement for her program, while Naomi stretches with a loud yawn and logs on to her computer.

"Did Quinn make it back to Yale?" Naomi asks, carrying her laptop over to her bed with her so that she can talk to Rachel while she's at her desk.

She smiles at the mention of Quinn's name, thinking of their past weekend together. "Yeah, she texted me a little while ago to let me know she made it back safe."

"You said you went to the Statue of Liberty, right?"

"Yes! It was so much fun. You should really go when you get the chance. The island was a lot of fun, but I think I loved being on the ferry even more. There's just something about seeing that statue approaching in the distance with the city behind it.  _So_  cool! Here, I have a picture…" She grabs her phone from the corner of her desk and taps a couple of buttons before a photo fills the screen.

Her roommate reaches across the mattress and holds the phone for a moment, smiling internally but keeping her face neutral.

"You two look like a couple," she says nonchalantly, handing Rachel back her phone and settling back onto her bed.

"W-what?" Rachel stutters out in surprise, quickly glancing at the screen and then back to Naomi. "What are you talking about?"

"You and Quinn. The way you're hugging in that picture, and just your faces. I know you're just friends, but you look like a couple there."

"We do  _not_!" she claims indignantly, focusing on the picture again. "We're best friends. We're allowed to smile and hug. It doesn't make us a couple!"

Naomi laughs at how flustered her roommate is getting. "Relax, Rachel. I was just making an observation. I know you guys are just friends, even if you  _would_  be really cute together."

There's a fine line that she is toeing here. She has no right put Quinn's feelings on display to Rachel. That's up to Quinn when  _Quinn_  is ready, or when Rachel figures it out for herself. Besides, Quinn isn't the unknown factor in all of this- Rachel is. Rachel's feelings are the ones that are harder to discern. So she's just going to drop subtle comments and questions here and there, and see what Rachel's responses are. After that, it's really up to them. She can plant the seeds, but she's got to trust that they'll grow on their own. Intrusive meddling won't do anyone any good. Plus, she doesn't  _know_  Quinn well enough (though she's working on that one).

"Thanks, I guess, but that's  _so_  not happening," she says with a laugh, placing her phone back on her desk.

Well, that's interesting. She doesn't seem to be instinctually  _opposed_  to the thought of it, yet she doesn't seem to perceive any possibility of it ever happening either.

"You had a good weekend though?"

"The best." Her lips quirk up in a smile, thinking of Quinn dancing along the sidewalk by the ferry dock, wearing her dorky green hat and singing  _Empire State of Mind_  lyrics at the water. Uninhibited happy Quinn is her favorite Quinn. It's almost like she's intoxicated or something, but really it's just the absence of her self-imposed personality filter that she's built up to satisfy others.

(She claimed it was much easier to get her swag on to that song  _in_ New York City instead of on the steps of McKinley High. She could see Quinn's point there.)

"So do you think you'll be going to New Haven next or will Quinn come back here first?"

"Umm…I don't think we've decided for sure yet, but I  _think_  I'll be going to New Haven. It's not fair to make Quinn do all the travelling. Plus, I do want to visit her and check out Yale."

Naomi nods and clicks through something on her computer screen. "Are you still working on homework?"

Rachel sighs and rests her head on her open book. "I am, but I've reached a mental block on this assignment, so I'm going to leave it alone for a little while. It's still early. Why?"

"Because I've got facebook ready for you to log in so you can show me what some of your other high school friends look like." Naomi smiles mischievously and then pats a spot on her bed next to Rachel.

"You're really that curious?" Rachel laughs, closing her textbook and moving to sit against Naomi's headboard next to her.

"Um,  _yeah_! Especially after meeting Quinn."

"Alright, fine" she huffs, smiling. "But cover your eyes until I find a good picture. I don't want you peeking at everything before I find good ones."

"If you say so." Naomi makes a dramatic display of covering her eyes while Rachel logs in to her facebook and types Santana's name into the search bar. She clicks through several Cheerios related photos, and even more candids of her in the background at various house parties, until eventually stumbling upon some pictures from the summer. This is the Santana that she has befriended, the one that she has really come to appreciate.

"Okay, open. This is Santana and Brittany." It's a picture that Quinn took back in July when she had several of the girls over for a pool party. Brittany is wearing short cut-off jean shorts and a bright orange bikini top, and Santana's clad in a purple halter style two piece. The two are lying back in a lounge chair in the sun, with Santana's back against Brittany's front, legs tangled and arms intertwined. She picked this one because Brittany is trying to plant a wet kiss against Santana's cheek, and Santana is laughing trying to squirm away from her grip. Quinn captured the moment perfectly.

"Ho- _ly_. What do they put in the drinking water in Lima? Seriously! Are all the girls from your high school this hot? Because I mean Santana, Brittany, Quinn… _damn_ …"

"They were at the top of the social hierarchy though. In the old days, students fearfully and reverently referred to those three as the unholy trinity." Naomi chokes out a laugh at this. "I'm serious, they did. Santana's a lot more bark than bite though, and my god she is  _so_  whipped around Brittany. It's hilarious to see the difference."

"Was that weird for Quinn, being part of a popular trio where the other two girls were hooking up with each other? 'Cause, I mean,  _some_  might appreciate that scenario, but I get the impression that Quinn hasn't always been this relaxed about things."

Rachel thinks back to sophomore year, before Quinn's pregnancy became known, when the three of them ruled the school. She'd never really thought about it before. How long ago did Brittany and Santana start hooking up behind closed doors? Had Quinn been aware that it was going on? What had been her response to it?

Now Naomi has got her curious, so she fires off a quick text.

_Was just showing Naomi a pic of San and B and I have a SUPER random question- did you know that they were hooking up back in the early unholy trinity days?_

"I just asked Quinn to find out how long she's known about them. We've never really talked about it before." Naomi nods, clicking through a few more pictures from the pool party.

"Who's that girl there?" Naomi points at one of the glee clubbers in a different picture.

"Oh, that's my friend Tina!"

"I like those blue highlights in her hair."

Rachel laughs and nods in agreement. "Yeah, it was fun to see her bring those back over the summer."

A small chime alerts her of a text and she looks down at her phone to read the new message.

_**Woah that is really random. But I've known since freshman year. God I used to catch them making out in the 'empty' locker room and at sleepovers all the time. Don't ask if I've ever walked in on…other activities.**_

Rachel smiles widely at Quinn's text and holds her phone up for Naomi to read the message. She laughs loudly and tells her, "Oh, now you have to ask her. I want to see what she says."

She debates whether or not to listen to Naomi, and gives in after a moment. She just really wants to fluster Quinn and see what she says.

_Have you ever walked in on other activities? ;P_

Almost five minutes later, when she's beginning to doubt that she'll receive any kind of response, another text chimes through.

_**Raacchhh ): FINE. Yes I have. More than once. S had the decency to look embarrassed, but I'm pretty sure B almost asked me to join at one point. Why are you texting me about this? Haha**_

"Oh my  _god_! She totally has! She says if it wasn't for Santana's jealousy, she thinks B might have asked for a threesome at one point. Geez Q…"

Naomi's face pales and she blinks rapidly before shaking her head. "Okay, stop! You're breaking my brain."

"Yeah, that's certainly a mental image," Rachel comments lightly as she laughs at her roommate's response.

Though Rachel thinks nothing of her comment, Naomi quirks her eyebrow in is too busy texting a reply to notice though.

_Just for fun. And bc I was curious. So did it freak you out?_

Naomi switches over to some art blog once she sees that Rachel is engrossed in texting with Quinn, while Rachel slides off of Naomi's bed and lays back on her own.

When a few minutes go by without any response, she starts to wonder what's going on. Quinn almost never leaves in the middle of a text conversation, since it's a major pet peeve for the both of them when people do that. She eventually picks up her textbook again, content to get back to her homework since it doesn't seem like Quinn is going to answer.

When almost fifteen minutes has passed since she texted her question, her phone chimes the alert for a new message.

_**Yes. But not for the reasons that you probably think it did.**_

She has absolutely no idea what Quinn means by that, and doesn't really have anything to say in response. So she decides to just leave it be. Quinn already waited a little while to text her. Maybe she'll just assume that Rachel wasn't by her phone anymore.

For now, she's got a script idea proposal to work on for her playwright class in the morning. She's got not idea why someone whose focus is  _acting_  should have to worry about the writing side of things. But unfortunately, she really doesn't have a say in the matter.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn is exhausted from the weekend of travel and sightseeing, and she groans at the thought of finishing up her homework as the city bus drops her off right near campus. She digs into her pocket to pull out her phone and text Rachel that she got back safe when her hand makes contact with something else.

There's a folded piece of paper resting in her left jacket pocket that she had completely forgotten about.

Curiously, she unfolds the note that Rachel's roommate handed her earlier this afternoon.

_Hey Quinn. I know we don't know each other very well at all. But for what it's worth, I think you have a real shot with her. I'm telling you this because I can see how nervous and hesitant you are. I barely spent time with you two this weekend, but the chemistry between you is clear. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Though part of me wonders if Rachel is already more aware than she's letting on. This note is just to let you know that I know, and that I'm on your side. I'm rooting for you. You make her happy, Quinn. Her face lights up whenever she talks to you or about you. There's something there, I swear it._

_Here's my number if you ever want to get in contact with me about something. Also it's probably safe to have anyway if case of some sort of emergency._

The note concluded with Naomi's scrawled signature and a phone number written at the bottom of the paper.

Quinn stands frozen at the bus stop, re-reading the note to make sure she understood it properly. And all of a sudden, it seems like it's harder to breathe, because Rachel's roommate  _knows_  and she was barely even around them this weekend. How is that even possible? Are her feelings really that on display for the world to see?

There's some comfort in the fact that Naomi seems to be cool about it and doesn't plan on saying anything. But just the fact that someone other than Santana knows is a lot to take in. This is slowly becoming less and less of a secret, and she can't help but feel that it will only be a matter of time before the truth comes out.

And that- that's fucking terrifying.

She sends off a quick text just to let Rachel know she made it back, then immediately presses number four on her speed dial.

"Heyyy Q! How was New York? Confess your love to Berry yet?"

Quinn just jumps straight to the point. "San, Rachel's roommate knows."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Naomi. She was barely even with us this weekend, but she knows that I have feelings for Rachel. She gave me a note that I totally forgot about, but I just found it and read it and now I'm kind of freaking out," she rants, sucking in a deep breath.

"Whoa, calm down Q. I don't know how she knows, and maybe you can tell me about this weekend in a sec, but it's alright. It's not the end of the world. So the purple haired gypsy figured out. What's the panic? If Rachel's still oblivious, then I doubt her roommate secretly knowing is gonna change anything unless the chick blabs. From what you've told me, that doesn't sound like something Rachel's roomie would do."

"She said my secret was safe with her."

"See? So you're fine. She doesn't even know anything about your past with Rachel, Q. She just sees how you two are together, and she sees how Rachel is when she talks to you. This is a  _good_  thing. She wouldn't point it out to you if she didn't think there was something there on Rachel's end."

"You think?" Quinn asks shyly, calming her breathing.

"I do. So what did the note say?"

"That she thinks there's something there," Quinn admits with a smile.

"Then why the fuck are you freaking out on me? This is  _good_  news, Quinn! You've been harboring your secret lesbian love for Berry for ages, but at least now you've got someone close to Rachel who knows. I don't see how this is a bad thing."

She's calmed down enough to make use of her legs again and so she begins her walk back to the dorm, holding her phone against her ear as she walks across campus.

"Because Naomi could spill! That is  _not_  how I want Rachel to find out!"

"Oh, but you  _do_  want her to find out? That's new." She can almost  _hear_ Santana smirking through the phone.

"I…I think I do, San. This weekend. This weekend was perfect. I…you're not gonna yell at me for getting sappy are you?"

"There's always that possibility."

Quinn sighs in exasperation, but continues on. This is just the way Santana is, and if she's honest, she wouldn't want it any other way. "Well how about I tell you something you can mock me about, and  _then_  I get to the sappy stuff."

"Ooh, now it's gettin' interesting."

"There's something very very obvious that I didn't think about until I got to Rachel's dorm."

"What, that dorms are just one big weed den?"

"Huh? What, no!"

"Hmm, guess that's just UCLA then," she muses. "Continue."

"Sleeping arrangements. Tiny single bed. Two people."

Abruptly, Santana starts laughing loudly into the phone. "You totally had to cuddle with Berry, didn't you? I'd feel sorry that you had to endure that sweet torture if it wasn't so fucking funny."

"Yeah I thought you'd appreciate that," Quinn replies humorlessly. She's reached her dorm by this point and pulls out her key card to swipe her access into the building.

She juggles with her bags and phone for a moment until some nice guy holds open the door for her. "Thanks," she mutters away from the speaker of her phone, turning around the corner and heading up to the second floor where her room is.

"You didn't, like, feel her up in your sleep or some super embarrassing shit like that did you?"

"No, thank god." She slides her key into the door and drops her bags to the ground once she's inside. Her roommate is gone. Figures. "I did wake up to find myself all cuddled up to her though. I was mortified."

"I'm sensing there's another side to this story though."

Quinn lets herself fall back onto her mattress, cradling the phone to her ear as her head sinks back into her pillow.

She nods subconsciously in agreement, even though Santana can't see her. "It just felt right- holding her. In that split second before I panicked and practically threw myself off the bed trying to back away from her, there was this perfect moment of peace. Where I just wanted to keep holding her like that, you know?"

"Yep. There's the sap I was waiting for."

"I mean it. I've never felt like that before. There were a couple times that I moved around during the night where I wasn't totally awake but I wasn't fully asleep either. And she was  _right there,_  San."

"Sap. Sticky gooey sap just oozing everywhere," she replies in a snarky, yet somehow still teasing, tone. She knows that she doesn't really mean it. Santana is happy for her, even if she would never admit to wanting to hear all this stuff.

She's about to tell Santana about the Statue of Liberty when an alert tone beeps in her ear. She pulls the screen back to glance at it and sees a new message waiting for her.

"Speaking of which, she just texted me."

"Well, go ahead, check your message." Santana rolls her eyes but stays on the line.

She reads the message and opens her mouth in surprise. "That's so random! She wants to know how long ago I knew you and B were hooking up. Like, how far back I was aware it was going on."

Santana laughs in surprise at that. "What the hell does she want to know that for?"

"No idea. Let me text her back."

She formulates a reply, deciding it's easier to just answer her question rather than ask about the reason behind it.

"Okay, it's sent."

"What'd you tell her?" Santana asks, genuinely curious.

"The truth. I told her I've been catching you guys making out since freshman year."

'Yeah, well, due to recent revelations I'm starting to wonder if you were  _trying_  to catch us making out," she teases just to rile up Quinn.

"I did  _not_! It's not my fault you two have always been total horndogs who have no problems with semi-public sexual acts."

" _Sexual acts_?  _Really,_  Quinn? You're not repressed celibacy bitch anymore. It's okay to just tell me I appreciate my sexy as fuck girlfriend and have no problems with PDA. I got no problems with the truth."

She hears her phone beep in her ear again and taps the screen to check Rachel's reply.

"Oh my god! She wants to know if I've ever walked in on you guys."

Santana's laughter is even worse this time. The most embarrassing part is that she's not even sure whether she's laughing at the question or at the fact that Quinn actually  _has_ accidentally walked in on them before.

"You know, I never really appreciated Berry's blunt questions. But from a distance, she's kind of hysterical."

" _Why_  is she asking me this?"

"No idea. Might as well just answer her though. Can't really hurt at this point."

"Fine," Quinn huffs, slowly typing out an answer to Rachel's question.

"What did you say?"

"That I have. And more than once." Quinn leaves out the part about the threesome joke though. She doesn't need attack of the jealous Santana right now.

Her phone is already beeping in her ear again.

"Oh crap."

"What?"

Quinn stares at the screen, willing the question to just disappear so she doesn't have to deal with it.

"She asked me if it freaked me out."

Santana is quiet for a moment, milling over Quinn's words. "What do you think she's really asking?" Quinn nervously asks.

"I think she wants to know if seeing two girls going at it totally freaked you out. Emphasis on  _girls_."

"Well what the hell am I supposed to say to her?"

Santana chuckles darkly for a moment. "That depends Q," she husks, intentionally dropping her voice an octave lower. "What  _was_  your gut reaction when you caught us?"

Quinn feels her face flush at the question, and the room suddenly feels ten degrees warmer. She tries to speak a couple of times, but no words come out.

That's all the answer Santana needs though. "I don't blame you, Fabray," she chuckles. "Britts and I are too hot to handle for  _most_  people, let alone the unpressed lemon that you were back then."

She may be able to admit to herself and one of her closest friends that she's attracted to women, but she's not much better with the sex talk than celibacy queen Quinn was. She knows that if she were to look in a mirror right now, her face would be bright red.

"What do I tell Rachel?" she whines through her embarrassment.

"Go with the half truth. Tell her it freaked you out. Just don't tell her why. It freaked you about because of the whole repressed lesbian thing. Just don't tell her that part. She'll assume it's what she was trying to imply- that you'd be turned off and freaked out by it."

Santana may mock her relentlessly, but she always pulls through in the end.

"Okay I will."

"So you had a good time in New York?"

"I did. Here, I want to send you something." She taps through her phone and texts the picture of her and Rachel from this weekend to Santana.

A moment later, the picture message comes through and then Santana's voice carries through.

"Jesus, Q. That is  _not_  how friends pose. You look like a couple!"

"We do?" Quinn asks, surprised, and looks at the picture again before returning the speaker to her face.

"Yup. Sickeningly cute. And I'm totally jelly that you guys got to see the Statue of Liberty. But you do. You look like a couple. Maybe not to the average everyone-is-straight-until-proven-otherwise observer. But any open-minded person willing to really look at what's in front of them? Yeah, you do."

Quinn can't help the proud little quirk of her lips into a smile in response to Santana's statement.

"For reals though, Quinn- and you'll  _never_  hear me repeat this- you guys look really cute together. I can totally picture it. Literally. Because it would look pretty much like this."

"Thanks, San."

There's the sound of rustling and another voice in the background. "Hey Q, Britt just got home from dance. Can I talk to you again later? We're supposed to cook dinner together tonight."

"Sticky gooey  _sap_ ," Quinn mocks her comment from earlier, teasing.

"Shut it, Fabray."

"I'm just kidding, S. Tell Brittany I said hi! We'll talk soon."

"Bye, Q."

Quinn sets her phone down on the bed and the presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. So many thoughts are racing around and colliding in her head, and none of it will stop.

She just spent the perfect weekend with her best friend, pushing her feelings to the side.

Rachel's roommate knows about these less than platonic feelings.

Said roommate thinks she may actually have a shot.

And according to Santana, they already pose for pictures like a couple.

Somehow, in the span of two weeks, the thought of her and Rachel together has transformed from a secret dream into a lingering hope that has the distant potential for reality.

She just needs a moment to absorb the fact that this thing with Rachel- it could actually maybe possibly potentially somehow happen.


	10. Chapter 10

"Now if you'll just wait for a moment, our TA will be handing back your script proposals that you submitted on Monday. All grades are final, but as most of you know, the initial proposal is worth very little of the final project grade. Next Friday, you will submit a second proposal where you can either modify your current one if you are happy with it, or you can submit an entirely new idea. We'll move forward from there. Have a good weekend, guys."

Rachel anxiously taps her pen against her desk, waiting for the TA to call out her name so that she can look over her assignment. This has quickly become her most frustrating class, and the worst part is that the class feels kind of pointless.  _Why_  should she have to write? It's probably their version of an English class that's been designed to be more specific for her program. But she'd take a normal English class any day over this. Playwriting is  _so_  much more difficult.

"Rachel Berry."

She hears the woman call out her name and quickly scrambles to retrieve her proposal. Written in green ink at the bottom of the page is a circled letter grade C. The only comment is hastily scribbled across the bottom and reads, "Uninspired. Too forced. Ask yourself- would I want to act in this play?".

If she's really honest with herself, she wouldn't. She would critique the script of this idea and wouldn't give it a second thought as an actor. That doesn't make her grade any less disheartening. She is an A student, with the occasional B or B+ in science classes that don't suit her strengths as much. That's the thing about college that she's quickly learning- all your expectations of the grades you're accustomed to can easily be shattered.

She'll take the C with grace, but Rachel Berry is nothing if not a persistent hard worker, and she  _will_  do better on the second proposal.

"Professor Culp?" she timidly approaches the desk at the front of the room. He seems like a nice enough man, but it's still intimidating to approach him.

"Yes?" He looks up through his glasses away from his briefcase where he is packing away his laptop.

"My name is Rachel Berry, and I was hoping you could give me some further commentary on how my proposal might be improved. The note at the bottom was very brief and I don't know how to improve my work. Writing, especially in this context, is not my strong suit."

He looks at her for a moment before asking to see her paper and glancing through it. "Ah, yes, I remember this one now." He sets the paper down and surveys her. "Tell me, Rachel- what is your favorite musical?"

"My favorite musical?" she asks, confused.

"Yes. What show, Broadway or otherwise, is your favorite? It doesn't even have to be a sole favorite, it can be one of several favorites. Just name one."

"Les Mis," she replies immediately.

"Okay. I want you to think about what appeals to you in that musical. Try to imagine that it's not an award winning Broadway hit for a moment. Take the play at face value. What about it draws you in?"

She thinks about his question for a moment, not quite sure where he is going with this or how he wants her to answer. "The characters," she answers hesitantly. "And the plot. Not so much because of what happens, but because it makes me  _care_  what happens."

"So you get invested in the story," he clarifies, brow raised in question.

"Yes."

"For your second submission, I want you to tell me a story that you're invested in. It can be a real life experience, or it can be drawn completely from your imagination. What matters is that you  _care_  about the people involved and you care about the outcome. If  _you're_  invested in the outcome, then there's a far greater chance that I will be too."

"But I don't know what story I have that's worth putting in a play," she admits, feeling inferior.

"Everyone has a story worth telling, Rachel. You just have to find it. I have faith that you'll find yours," he tells her with a smile, picking up his briefcase and heading towards the exit.

She lets his comment twirl around in her mind for a moment, then shrugs her backpack onto her shoulder and heads in the direction of the library. She spent hours thinking about ideas for that first proposal. A brilliant idea isn't going to come to her now while she's standing in an empty classroom.

She has to hope that at some point, inspiration will strike.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn's pretty sure she's never read this much non-prose writing in her life. She really didn't think through her class distribution very well. The thing about Yale is that they require all students who want to major in English to take two semesters of a class that covers a broad scope of classic poets and playwrights. Apparently it's something to do with learning how to read critically and process great literature.

So not only is she in a Shakespeare class, which fulfills one of her '3 courses of authors 1800 or earlier', but she's also in a general poetry class.

Thank god she likes to read. Maybe all those times spent reading in the back of the choir room instead of watching Mr. Schuester point emphatically at a single word on the white board are actually paying off.

"You ready for the exam on Tuesday?" some guy with quirky glasses and kind eyes who's sitting next to her asks as the lecture concludes and everyone rises and gathers their belongings.

"Getting there," she smiles, throwing her copy of Homer's  _Odyssey_ into her bag.

"My name's David," he offers his hand to shake with a light smile on his face.

"Quinn." She shakes his hand in response, and shoulders her backpack.

"It's nice to meet you, Quinn. Would you maybe interested in forming a study group this weekend? There's a couple other people in the class who have already agreed to meet, and it could be helpful. We can help remind each other of key plot points and work together on the sample essay prompts."

The guy seems really nice, and a study group probably would be really helpful. "Umm, sure, that sounds great! Do you want my contact info or something so we can coordinate?"

He rips out a blank sheet of notebook paper and hands her a pen to write down her cell number and email address.

"Sweet! I'll email or text you to let you know the details. We're thinking Sunday afternoon."

"Sounds good! See you soon David." She smiles at him in farewell and heads in the direction of her dorm to change clothes. Classes are done for the week, and she needs to blow off some steam.

She checked out the gym for the first time last week, and they've got a pretty decent spread of exercise equipment.

You can take the girl out of Cheerios but you can't take the Cheerio out of the girl. Three years with Sue Sylvester, and now the best way for her to relax and calm her mind is still to exercise.

The thing about being on Cheerios for three years though is that she can't stand treadmills. All those seasons of running on the school track, rain or shine, hell even snow. She relishes in the feel of her feet pounding against the red-brown tarmac, and the air rushing into her lungs as she actually moves  _forward_  rather than staying in place. Perhaps it's a psychological thing, that she's spent too much time in her life running to get nowhere, that she has to run on solid ground and observe the progress.

Fortunately, Yale has an all-purpose track for students located between the gym and the soccer practice fields, so she's still got her place to run.

Half an hour later, she's got her nikes laced to her feet and her ipod set to the Sleigh Bells album ' _Treats'_. There's only one other person on the track. Because who wants to exercise on a Friday after classes?

Anyone who exercises to maintain their body image isn't working out right now. Quinn's just here to run for the sake of running. The calories burnt are simply an added bonus.

The shrill sound of  _Riot Rhythm_ invades her ears and she begins to jog at a quick pace after some quick stretching.

(She still imagines Sue Sylvester screaming into her megaphone that girls who don't stretch are just asking for a vacation to the hospital.)

Left. Right. Left. Right. Arch. Flex. Forward.  _Boom boom badoom boom badoomboom_.

She gets lost in the beat of her feet to the music, not caring about the number of laps and instead just focusing on the burning in her lungs and the flexing of her calves.

She's so in the zone, that she nearly face plants over a soccer ball when it rolls across the track.

The ball rolls to a stop right along the second lane, and she pulls one of the headphones out of her ear, looking to see the source of the interruption.

A couple guys call out to her, and she spots the soccer players in their Yale practice jerseys just a little distance from the track. Some guy must have kicked the ball too hard in the wrong direction and sent it flying into her path.

Quinn holds the ball in one hand above her right foot, then gracefully allows it to fall and connect with her foot that is powering forward. The ball sails in the direction of the players and lands on the edge of the grass right near their sidelines.

One of the players whistles loudly, impressed, while another calls out a loud "Thank you!"

She nods her head exaggeratedly in acknowledgement and then takes off running again. It's easy for her to get back in the zone. How else could she ever have survived being cheer captain?

She's lost in her own world again, and therefore doesn't notice the various soccer players occasionally casting her appreciative glances each time she rounds the curve of the track closest to their field.

An indecipherable number of laps later, and now her breath inhalations have progressed from a low burn into a hollowed out gasping. She slows her pace to a walk and then gradually comes to a stop, torso hunched forward with her palms pressing into her knees, head hanging down while she sucks in harsh breaths.

The soccer team has finished practice, and the guys are now grabbing their gear and walking in the direction of the track to cross back over towards the main part of campus.

When it starts to feel like the oxygen is actually circulating through her brain again, Quinn slowly raises herself and rests her hands behind her head.

Some of the team members are within speaking distance now, and one of them comments, "That was a nice kick you had there."

She just nods, not granting him a vocal response and still breathing in and out deeply.

Another one says, "Man, you've got some serious endurance. I kept waiting for you to take a break, but you just kept on running."

"What's your name?" The guy who commented on her kick asks.

She's about to respond when a familiar face joins the group. "Hey, Quinn! I didn't recognize that was you on the track."

It's Jordan, the guy who invited her to the party a couple of weeks ago. "Hey, how's it going?" she asks him politely, out of breath. Some of the other players look between the two curiously, trying to figure out how they know each other.

"Quinn and I met a Woodland a little while back. I invited her to the Sigma Chi party a couple weeks ago," he explains. "I'm good. Keeping busy. How 'bout you?"

"Same. Just trying to burn off some steam. It's been a long school week."

Jordan nods in understanding, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder slightly. Their coach calls out something to him and he's momentarily distracted.

Quinn's about to leave the track and this awkward conversation, when one of the other players starts talking, taking Jordan's acquaintanceship with Quinn as an 'in'.

"Well, Quinn, there's another party going on tonight. This time it's just some of the athletes hosting though, but I'm sure plenty of the Greek life people will be there."

She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to get to the point. "You wanna come tonight? Maybe be my date? Nothing big, everyone just ends up hanging out with each other anyway." The guy is all athletic build, blue eyes, and charming smile. And it does absolutely nothing for her.

' _Shit, I'm so gay_ ,' she tells herself as she wills her body to be attracted to this toned athlete and fails.

"Hey! Who says you're the one who gets to ask her out?" one of the other guys asks, punching the charmer jokingly and flashing a grin at Quinn.

Jordan is back to the group now, and listening to catch up on what he missed.

"You snooze you lose, dude," the player with the blue eyes answers him. "So, what do you say?" he asks, turning to Quinn.

"Umm.." Great. She's standing in front of half a dozen attractive soccer players and she can't formulate a single excuse for why she wouldn't want to go with any of them.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," he encourages.

"She plays for a different team, man," Jordan informs him to help Quinn out, then smiles at Quinn kindly, as if he just stated common knowledge, and waves his hand in farewell as he leaves to catch up with some of the other players who are leaving.

Quinn, on the other hand, feels like she just got bitch slapped with a freezing wet towel. Did he just…?

"Woah, seriously? My bad. I had no idea. Sucks for us, I guess. You're still welcome to come tonight though. I'll have Jordan text you the details." He glances back awkwardly one last time, before telling her goodbye and leaving with the rest of the team.

As soon as they're a few feet away, she can hear some of the players start laughing at that guy and making jokes about having seriously bad luck with women.

Quinn just stands there, holding her ipod in a vice grip, and trying to wrap her brain around the fact that she's somehow become known as an out lesbian in the Greek life social circle at Yale.

How the hell did  _that_  happen?

**XXxxXX**

That night, Rachel decides that she'd rather just snuggle up in her room and watch FRIENDS reruns than go out. It's been a stressful school week, and she just wants to rest. Naomi had just left a little while ago to go to some gallery opening. She had invited Rachel, but she just wasn't up for it tonight.

She's laughing to herself watching Ross Geller scream " _ **Pivot!**_ " as they try to move their couch up the stairs, but she realizes more than anything that she just wants Quinn to cheer her up.

They hadn't talked nearly as frequently this week, because school was finally starting to get busy for both of them. Their new lives were taking shape, and with that came the inevitable drop in daily (oftentimes more than daily) talks. They still managed texts each day, but she'd only talked to Quinn in person three times. Three times seemed like a lot, but for them, it was definitely lower than average.

But it's the weekend now, and hopefully Quinn will have time to catch up and talk in more detail.

She hits the pause button on her laptop and presses the first speed dial number to call Quinn.

It rings three times before there's a muffled "Hello?" that comes through the line.

"Hey Quinn, it's me." Rachel lies back on her mattress, smiling.

"Oh hey, Rach. Now's really not a good time." Quinn's voice sounds kind of scratchy, and she has no idea why.

"What do you mean? I thought we were gonna talk once the weekend came. I want to hear about your week!" she says brightly, assuming that Quinn is just being grumpy about something.

"Please, Rachel, not now, okay?" Quinn asks, pleading.

She frowns. Why is she… "But, Quinn-"

" _Rachel! I'm serious!_ " she snaps scathingly through the phone. And just like that it feels like the blood in her veins has run cold.

This isn't her Quinn. This is the Quinn who called her man-hands, who mocked her animal sweaters and ordered daily slushie attacks on her.

Tears of confusion and hurt pool in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Quinn," she softly muffles into the phone before disconnecting the call. She doesn't even know what she's apologizing for, but what else can she say?

Quinn  _promised_. She promised that whatever happened between them, she would never go back to being that girl. Quinn  _knows_  how much that side of herself hurts Rachel. She hasn't heard that side of Quinn in  _months_ , almost a year at this point.

It feels like someone has simultaneously punched her in the stomach and wrapped her heart in a fierce grip. It  _hurts_ , and the worst part is that there's no explanation.

She presses play on the DVD and lets the voices of fictional characters fade into white noise as she buries her face into her pillow and cries.

Maybe on some other day, this wouldn't hurt  _quite_  so much. But when she's had a stressful week and she calls her best friend expecting to laugh and lighten her stress, the return of tormentor Quinn is the breaking point.

At some point the DVD has cycled around to the beginning again, and it's back to the menu, replaying the classic " _I'll beeee there fooor yoooou_ " over and over in some kind of twisted ironic statement at her current state of affairs.

She slams the mute button on her laptop and pulls out her ipod, content to drown out her own thoughts with a different kind of noise.

This is how Naomi finds her when she returns to the room at around eleven, curled up under her comforter while she listens to her ipod and stares at the ceiling unseeing.

"Rachel?" she asks her hesitantly. Rachel pulls her headphones out of her ears, but doesn't saying anything in response.

"Rachel, what's wrong?" Naomi sits on the edge of Rachel's bed and softly rests her hand on the girl's shoulder.

Her eyes lock onto Naomi's grey-blue ones and suddenly she can't stop the flow of tears. Naomi shuffles her way onto Rachel's bed and envelops the girl in a hug.

"I don't know," she cries. "I don't know what's wrong. That's the problem." Naomi wrinkles her forehead in confusion but doesn't question it. Instead, she redirects her question.

"What happened then?" she asks soothingly, running her hand through Rachel's hair.

"It's Quinn…" Naomi's eyes widen in surprise.

"Is she okay?"

Rachel cries for another couple of minutes before finally answering quietly, "I honestly don't know." She knows Naomi is asking about physical injury more than anything, but something  _is_  wrong with Quinn. Because her Quinn doesn't  _do_  this anymore.

**XXxxXX**

As soon as Rachel disconnects the call, Quinn feels a rushing wave of guilt consume her. She did the  _exact_  thing that she didn't want to do- she took her current situation out on Rachel, the person that she cares about the most.

Her voice was already raw from crying, but now things are fucked up even more and she just needs help.

She dials the phone through teary-eyed vision and waits for a response.

It rings twice before someone picks up the line. "Hello?" a girl says brightly.

"Hey, B it's Quinn," she tells her shakily.

"Ahh! Hi Q! I miss you! Why does your voice sound all funny? You sound upset. Are you okay?" Brittany's innocent voice and concerned questions filter into Quinn's ear.

"No, I'm not. That's why I'm calling you," she sniffles into the phone.

"What's wrong? Do you need me to get San? She's just doing yoga in the other room…"

"No, not San. Not now, B. You make things better. You're always the one who makes things better, and I need you to do that right now."

"What is it?"

"I…I'm gay, Brittany," she whispers. It's the first time that she's said it out loud in that way. "I'm gay, and I slept with a girl at the first party I went to, and I think somehow other people found out about it. Because now a bunch of the Yale athletes and people in Greek life know. I think they thought it was common knowledge, that it wasn't still my secret."

"You got pushed out like San?" Brittany asks her, concern and sadness laced into her question.

It takes her a second to understand Brittany's word choice. "Yeah, B, I think I just got pushed out like San."

**XXxxXX**

Naomi sits with her for a while until she calms down. Rachel tells her that she doesn't want to explain anything right now, but that her and Quinn have a complicated past that just unexpectedly resurfaced in a way.

Naomi looks surprised and inquisitive, but doesn't push.

Rachel claims that she's tired, but really she just wants to be left alone in the dark now.

As her head sinks back into her pillow, and she works to calm her thoughts, words from earlier this morning unexpectedly resurface in her mind.

_Everyone has a story worth telling, Rachel. You just have to find it._

She thinks back to when this Quinn was a daily occurrence, when this was her constant attitude. She thinks of the ridicule and the insults that bore no explanation or apology for so long.

She thinks of her life sophomore and junior year, of the fights and the talks and the interwoven spectrum of interactions and emotions.

She thinks of her and Quinn.

And suddenly, she's found her story worth telling.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** My knowledge of counseling is surface level and relatively uninformed. So treat it as fiction like it should be, please. I tried my best to make it a realistic part of the story, despite my lack of knowledge on the counseling process and methods.

"It's been nine minutes since I introduced myself, and you still have yet to say a word," the woman says with a kind smile and an appraising look.

She nods in response, but remains mute.

The woman taps her pen thoughtfully. "I've been a student counselor at Yale for nearly fifteen years now, Ms. Fabray. Every single student is different, but there is one thing they all have in common here- I can only try to help them if they talk. So what is it that you have to talk about? Surely it must be something. You took the initiative to make the appointment yourself. No one is forcing you to be here. So what is it that you would like to talk about?"

Quinn stares down at her hands grasped tightly together in her lap, taking a moment to form a response. "There's…there's so much to talk about that I have no idea what to say. Does that make sense?"

She looks up from her hands to meet the eyes of the middle-aged woman looking back at her, and sees that she is nodding in understanding. "It does. There are a few different ways that people like to approach their sessions here. One is to start with the most recent troubles and work your way back in time to the start. Another is to do the exact opposite and work forward up to the present. And some people prefer to pick a significant instance somewhere in between and just work through what comes to mind. What do you think you would prefer?"

"The present is easier to talk about than the past," Quinn states quietly. "It's all pretty messed up, and present problems are linked directly to past problems. But I guess, if I had to start somewhere, it would be with the now. Because if you try to get me to talk about Lucy today, I'll be out the door before you can say another word."

The woman makes no vocal comment about Quinn's Lucy reference, clearly noticing the tension there, but makes a quick note of it on her pad of paper. "So tell me something about the present."

Quinn is quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach this. Then she just thinks-  _fuck it_. This isn't a family member, this isn't a close friend. This isn't even an acquaintance. This is a professional who is here to help her, and the only way she's ever going to get started is if she just spits it out.

"I'm in love with my best friend." Dr. Carlton quirks her eyebrow in acknowledgement, but says nothing, waiting to see if Quinn will add any further comment. "And she's a girl."

She waits for the discomfort, for the fleeting look of condescension or judgment to pass across her face, but it never comes. Instead, she gives Quinn a small closed-mouth smile and says-

"Tell me about her."

"Rachel is…" She pauses to reflect upon the question for a moment. "Rachel is the one who makes me the greatest version of myself…and she's the one who has the ability to bring out my most detestable qualities."

Dr. Carlton looks at Quinn with interest, waiting for her to continue. "She is beautiful. Driven. Talented beyond measure. She's everything I've ever wanted, and everything I've never allowed myself to have."

"How long has she been in your life?"

"The first time I ever saw her, I was a freshman in high school. The first time we ever spoke, we were sophomores." Quinn grimaces, thinking of her behavior towards Rachel back in those days.

She can sense Quinn's discomfort of past memories, and redirects the conversation. "So what's the present problem?"

Quinn looks at her, confused. "I told you. I'm in love with my female best friend," she enunciates, stating the obvious.

"Exactly. New love can be exciting, exhilarating, filled with hope. Especially when it's someone who's been in your life for a long time. But you're here in my office. So I ask you again- what's the present problem?"

She's stares at the ground for a moment, trying to process this woman's words. She thought the problem would be obvious. What doesn't she understand?

That's when it hits her-

She's not in Lima anymore.

Out there in this world, there are complete strangers who will listen to her confess her love for another woman and not think a thing of it.

It's one of the most confusing yet freeing feelings that she has ever encountered.

She bears the crushing weight of being unintentionally outed, while existing in an environment where she's realizing that no one seems to  _care_  who she loves or chooses to be with.

Quinn reacts in the only way she can manage amidst all the confusion and conflicting emotions-

She cries.

**XXxxXX**

It's been four days and Quinn still hasn't called.

She's confused and hurt and missing her like crazy. But she is  _not_  the one in the wrong here, and she refuses to be made to look like the one in the wrong by calling first and apologizing for something she didn't even do.

Whatever is going on is  _Quinn's_  issue, and it's up to Quinn to fix it.

In the meantime, she can keep her phone on high volume and compulsively check to see if she still somehow managed to miss an alert.

School is really starting to get busy, which helps with the whole distraction thing. Her second proposal for her playwriting class is due Friday, which means she's got three more days to make this A worthy.

There is something strangely therapeutic about dealing with Quinn's erratic behavior by writing about a character completely  _based_  on said behavior.

Quinn has been given the alias of Monica for her script, and she has adopted the name Lily to represent herself. She's not quite sure what it was that drew her to those names, but they seem to suit each of them, despite having no direct correlation to their actual selves.

So she sits at her laptop in a little nook on the third floor of the library, and she writes her plans for Monica and Lily. She writes about high school hierarchy, about Monica's endless quest for power and approval, and more than anything she writes about Monica's unexplained hatred and contempt for a single teenager named Lily.

In less than an hour, she has a full proposal of plot, setting, and characters written. It's amazing what she can accomplish when she's inspired. The only thing missing is music, and that's what she's still trying to figure out. Music has always been an incredibly personal part of who she is, and in many ways, music is what originally brought her and Quinn together. The question is whether or not music suits the story. If the play has music, then it must be because it aids in the storytelling, not because she's an avid fan of musical theater.

She's still got a couple of days left so she decides to leave it alone for now, and if no further inspiration strikes, then she can submit it as is on Friday.

_**Just got out of class. How do you feel about a spontaneous trip to Central Park right now? I miss trees. ):**_

The text from Naomi vibrates against the wood of the desk that she's working at and she smiles. Occasionally, Rachel misses grass and trees too. But somehow she was just meant to live in an urban environment. The whole concrete jungle thing doesn't really bother her.

Naomi, on the other hand, is from Portland. She's got a pathological  _need_  to see green every so often to keep from going insane.

_Sure. :) Meet me at the entrance of the library. I'm here studying right now._

_**K I'll be there in 5**_

The great thing about New York City is that you can get just about anywhere in a quick amount of time if you've got a metro pass.

Twenty-five minutes later, she's with her roommate and walking up the steps at one of the Central Park subway stops. People occasionally cast glances at them as they cross the block and approach the entrance of the park. For a moment she's confused, until she remembers that these people aren't used to Naomi's hair.

The purple is such a part of her roommate at this point, that she really doesn't think much of it unless she catches people looking at them when they're out and about.

Once they are into the park, Naomi immediately runs across the grass.

"I missed you," she emotionally proclaims as she wraps her arms tightly around a tree trunk and holds herself against the bark.

"You dork." Rachel laughs and scrunches her nose at her. "Don't be hugging trees for too long or people might think you're here to make some kind of political statement," she jokes.

"Yes. I'm here to state that the amount of green in this city is unacceptably low," she claims, brushing her hands together to wipe off the bark remnants and walking back over to Rachel.

"What, were you expecting grand oak trees on Wall street?" Rachel teases.

"No, not an oak. I'd settle for some quality shrubbery." She bumps her shoulder against Rachel's, smiling and leading them further into the park.

It's incredible what a simple walk in a park can do for her mood, though it could also be Naomi's personality and humor.

"So have you heard from Quinn yet?" Naomi asks, briefly stepping away from Rachel to let a woman with a stroller pass by.

She frowns down at the sidewalk. "No, I haven't."

"Dude, I know it's not my place. But I'm seriously wondering what the heck is going on. You guys had such a good weekend together."  _And Quinn's completely in love with you_ , she thinks to herself. "It makes no sense."

Rachel glances over at her roommate, noting the genuine concern and confusion on Naomi's face. She's right- Naomi doesn't necessarily  _need_  to know, but Rachel has decided that she wants her to. She needs advice, and Naomi is her closest friend here.

"I want to tell you something about me and Quinn. Stuff that…I alluded to the other day but didn't really tell you."

They stop on the edge of a lake and settle down onto a park bench. Naomi leans slightly against her, patiently waiting for Rachel to share with her.

"You know how I talked a little about how I was bullied quite a bit in high school?"

Naomi looks into her eyes and nods. "You've mentioned it a couple times. Not in detail, but I know it happened."

Rachel looks down at her lap and fidgets with her jacket sleeve. "Yeah, well, freshman year wasn't too bad. Just typical insults and whatever, some of which were just because I was a freshman. But…sophomore year was absolute hell. And I'm Jewish. Jews don't even believe in hell. But I'm telling you- it was hell."

Rachel pauses and looks out across the lake, lost in her own thoughts and bitter memories.

"I'm confused. I thought we were talking about Quinn."

"We are." Rachel turns her head to look Naomi in the eye. "Sophomore year was hell because Quinn made it that way."

Naomi's eyes widen in shock and her mouth opens slightly. "Seriously?"

"Yep." She nods, turning forward again to look at the water. "Quinn was my biggest tormentor, and Santana was her second in command."

"Wait-Santana? As in, Brittany and?"

"There were days during sophomore year when I swore Brittany was the only one of the unholy trinity who held an ounce of compassion. She would chuckle along to insults or stare blankly, but sometimes she would smile and look back with sad eyes at the losers who were left in their wake as they paraded away."

"What…what did she used to do?" Naomi asks her hesitantly.

"I think the better question is what  _didn't_ she do. For one thing, there was the slushies. That wasn't just for me, but I got them more frequently than any other student. Almost daily for a while. She'd get other popular kids to throw a frozen slushie in my face in the hallway. I had to keep an emergency clean up kit and a change of clothes in my locker everyday."

"Shit. That's messed up." Her roommate looks at her in disbelief.

"Well, that was my life. Two weeks into sophomore year, when it was clear that the slushie attacks weren't going to let up, I changed my wardrobe. I started wearing weird animal sweaters and plaid skirts. I figured, if my outfit was going to getting ruined or ridiculed everyday, why bother? Of course, soon enough mockery of the animal sweaters and my style of dress became a part of their taunts. Little did they know they were actually the  _cause_  of me wearing them."

"So there were the slushies. Was there other stuff?"

"Oh yeah. The slushies were just the most physically violent of the bullying. But there was all the psychological bullying too. Quinn refused to call me by my name. She used all these demeaning words like man-hands and Rupaul to make me insecure about how I look. And it worked. A good day was a day when she just called me by my last name. She'd yell 'Berry!' at me and I'd count it as a blessing."

Naomi shakes her head in disbelief, trying to process all of this new information about Quinn. This story of Quinn and Rachel was  _not_  what she had signed on for when she decided to work behind the scenes a little to help get them together.

"Was she ever like this to other people?" she asks curiously.

"No. She was kind of a bitch in general, and most kids were afraid of her. But I was the only one she treated that horrifically."

"How the hell did you guys become so close then? How could you move past something like that? I don't understand what changed."

"Quinn got pregnant."

Naomi's mouth drops open in shock.

"During sophomore year she got pregnant. I think that's when everything first started changing. The insults became less frequent, and I began to see a side of her that I would never have guessed even existed. After Beth was born, she tried to go back to how she had been before. She was a Cheerio again, head Cheerio. She tried to torture and demean me in the same way. But it didn't work. Ultimately, she just couldn't do it. She knew me more as a person because of Glee club, and everything she went through during tenth grade carried with her."

"Quinn has a daughter?" All of this new information is being thrown at her, and she's barely keeping up with the insanity of it all.

"She does. And please don't tell her that you know if you ever see her again. It's still a really touchy subject with her. But yes, she has a daughter. She gave her up for adoption. Don't even ask who adopted her, because I am  _so_  not getting in to  _that_  right now."

Naomi knows better than to push, so she changes back to the original topic.

"Okay, so Quinn stopped being completely heartless to you. But how did you guys become close friends?"

"It was a really gradual thing. It didn't evolve into what it is now until quite recently. Like, the end of senior year and this past summer."

"I still don't understand though. If Quinn was capable of being such great friends with you, why did she ever act so bad in the first place? Did she ever tell you what made her target you like that so much?"

Rachel looks at her thoughtfully for a moment. "No, she didn't. And I suppose that's at the heart of a lot of issues that we've tried to push away."

"Have you ever just flat out asked her why?"

"Yeah, I have." She looks out at the water, thinking of the times she  _had_  tried to bring it up. "She never says," Rachel tells her quietly.

And that's when Naomi realizes that she has the missing puzzle piece that Rachel is searching for. She has the answer to the why, and she feels like an idiot for not putting the two together.

Quinn has had a thing for Rachel  _way_  longer than she initially guessed. And according to Rachel, Quinn dealt with it in a really twisted and unhealthy way for a long period of time.

Suddenly, the potential romantic dynamic between Rachel and Quinn feels infinitely more complicated.

Quinn acted horribly, because she could never tell Rachel the truth.

Now Quinn can't tell Rachel the truth, because she used to act so horribly.

There's probably some other reasons mixed in, but she's got a feeling that's a pretty fucking big one in Quinn's mind.

The worst part is that Rachel still can't make sense of it all.

She'll keep her promise to Quinn about not interfering by telling Rachel or cluing her in. But keeping that promise-

That just got  _so_  much harder.

Because Quinn has  _always_  wanted Rachel, while Rachel still believes there was a time when Quinn wanted to obliterate her existence.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn is staring at the home screen of skype, as the little green checkmark next to Rachel's name continues to mock her.

If she learned anything with her counselor today, it's that she cares about Rachel far too much to let this distance that she caused go on any longer.

So she sucks in a deep breath and hits the call button before she can talk herself out of it.

The call rings several times, and it just hurts that much more because she  _knows_  that Rachel is right there at her computer. Her skype status is always accurate- when it says she's available, she's available.

She's just about to hit the disconnect button in defeat when a call timer appears and Rachel's name comes up. Her video isn't on, but she's there. Rachel hasn't said a word, but Quinn knows that she is right there on the other side.

"Rachel?" Quinn asks softly, voice loaded with hesitance and doubt. "Rachel, I know you're there. I know you answered the call."

Her voice cracks as tears form in the corner of her eyes. "Rachel, I am  _so_  sorry. I feel like shit. You didn't do anything wrong. This is all on me. All of it. I had a kind of crisis the other day and I took it out on you when I absolutely shouldn't have."

Quinn pauses to see if Rachel will say anything but the line is still silent. "You've got to believe how sorry I am. I know hearing me talk at you like I used to hurt. I hate that I always manage to hurt you," her voice wavers and she hastily wipes at her eyes. Even though she can't see Rachel, she knows that Rachel can see her.

"I understand that you don't walk to talk to me. I deserve it. But I guess, if you're not ready to communicate with me yet, just know that- I am so sorry. You're my best friend…and I love you. I hate myself that much more every time I hurt you."

She stares at the little box with Rachel's name, willing a noise or  _something_  to change on her screen. But it's still the same.

Tears of guilt and self-hatred well up in her eyes, and she lowers her head in defeat. "Okay. Well, when you're ready, call me or text me or whatever. I'll be here. I don't care if it's 3 am. When you're ready to talk to me, I want to hear from you, alright?"

She's about to wrap up with a final goodbye, when the box on her screen expands. Rachel's face fills the screen.

She's sitting on her bed in her room- Quinn can tell from the angle. The ceiling lights are off, and the soft light of the lamp is the only thing illuminating her face other than her computer screen. She's wearing her pink pajamas with the gold stars and her hair is pulled over her shoulder in a loose side braid. Her eyes are glistening, and small tear tracks across her cheeks are faintly visible in the light.

"Oh, thank god," Quinn sighs out softly in relief.

Rachel is quiet for another minute, watching Quinn watch her. Right now, Quinn is just thankful that Rachel made any move at all. She'll sit here in silence on skype all night if she needs to.

"I went to Central Park with Naomi today." Quinn sighs in relief when Rachel's voice fills her headphones.

"We walked to the lake, and we talked about you. I just want to know, Quinn-" Rachel lifts her eyes from the screen to look directly into the camera. "Why did you do it? Telling me something bad happened isn't enough. You  _still_  won't explain yourself from high school, and you're trying to apologize for Friday without telling me anything right now. I'm sick of it, Quinn. It's not enough anymore. What happened? What made you so willing to revert back to that horrific tone you used to use with me? Because I'm drawing a blank."

Quinn drops her head into her hands, guilt twisting through her chest violently. "It wasn't you, Rachel. I promise, it wasn't you. It's just my own issues. I swear."

"Not good enough, Quinn. After all this time, I deserve more of an explanation that that."

She rubs her palms against her eyes before looking back up at the screen. "It's hard, Rachel. It's  _so_  fucking hard. I would give anything just to be able to explain. To explain it all. But it's not that simple."

Rachel shakes her head slightly in disappointment.

"I had my first appointment with the counselor today," she admits. "It went really well actually. I'm going to start going once a week for an hour and a half. I'm working on all of this, Rachel. I  _swear_  I'm working on it."

"Are you ever going to explain yourself?" Rachel doesn't sound upset, or even angry. She just sounds tired. She sounds absolutely exhausted by all of this.

"Yes," she says with certainty. "I am. I am going to explain everything. I tell myself almost every day that I don't deserve to have you in my life after everything I've put you through. Yet somehow, you're still here."

"If you can't explain high school, can you at least tell me what happened last Friday?" she asks with frustration.

Quinn is quiet, debating how she wants to answer this. Rachel needs  _something_  right now, some kind of explanation to grasp to. There's a whole lot that Quinn doesn't want to share, so she picks the one that is least painful to force out of her mouth.

"When I went to that party a couple of weeks ago, I got drunk and hooked up with a girl. I found out on Friday that several people at Yale know about it."

Rachel's eyes widen and she snaps her head closer to the screen.

"Quinn..."

"I can't right now, Rach. I just can't…" Quinn pleads softly, voice thick with tears. "I can't talk about this. Not with you. Not right now. That's the best I can do for tonight. You know, at least. So can you please just say 'okay'? Can you just call me Q and say goodnight and trust that I'm doing everything I can to work through my crap?"

Despite Rachel's shock, she reigns it in and focuses on Quinn's face on her computer screen. Her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles and she murmurs to Quinn, "You're my best friend, Q. I trust you even when I think that I shouldn't. You can sleep. I promise I'll still be your friend in the morning."

"Promise?" Quinn whispers, desperately seeking confirmation.

"Promise."


	12. Chapter 12

Quinn stares at the stapled exam papers and shoves them into her bag. The timing of everything last week completely fucked her over for her freshman English course. The argument with Rachel had kept her from being able to study well all weekend, and her nerves about meeting with her counselor had kept her distracted  _during_  the exam. Note to self: never schedule counseling appointments on exam days.

Honestly, if she hadn't decided to show up at that Sunday study session at the last minute, she probably wouldn't have even passed. Considering the shit storm that happened last week, she'll just have to accept her low C.

It's the first of four exams. It just means she's going to have to work that much harder on the other three.

David, the student who organized the study group originally, looks over at her as she gathers her stuff to leave.

"How'd you do?" he asks as they begin to exit the room.

She's always hated it when people ask her that question. No one ever actually  _cares_  how another student did on an exam. They just want to be able to compare scores in their own heads. "Pretty much as I expected."

It's a total non answer, and not what he's looking for, but she doesn't care. Because she saw his exam when it was handed back and he got a freaking ninety-four percent.

"I'll see you later, David." She cuts off any possible attempt at conversation and walks down the stairs to exit the building.

At her appointment this week, Dr. Carlton encouraged her to contact Jordan after Quinn told her what happened. She claimed that Quinn would not be able to put this to rest unless she was able to talk with him, and Quinn reluctantly agreed. It had been eating at the back of her mind ever since it happened almost a week ago.

She wasn't able to work up the nerve to call him until the next day, and he hadn't been able to meet until the day after that. So now it's Thursday and she's got plans to meet up with Jordan this afternoon at Woodland. He was a little surprised when she called, but seemed genuinely happy to meet up with her.

Quinn, however, already feels a churning feeling in her stomach and she doesn't have to meet with him for another five hours.

How exactly do you inform a person that he kind of outed you?

**XXxxXX**

Rachel enters her intro acting class that is required for every program at NYADA, and finds an empty seat in a good location. Since all students must take the class at some point, it's located in a large lecture hall that doubles as a theater and about two hundred students are registered for the class. NYADA only has approximately nine hundred students enrolled. A school with such a narrow focus for an undergraduate degree leads to much smaller numbers, as does the overall selectiveness of the school. They have incredibly specific programs; the students who are in each of them are entirely dedicated to that craft.

A girl who she's never met before looks up from her laptop when she sits down. "Have  _you_  gotten over the fact that they're trying to teach us how to act while we sit in a lecture hall? Because it's been almost a month, and it's  _still_  funny to me."

Rachel smiles as she shrugs off her coat and opens her book bag. "It is kind of odd. The only time I really feel like I'm learning things that I can put into practice is during discussion group."

"That's because we're split into smaller groups and get to actually  _do_  stuff in discussion group," the girl says and closes the lid of her laptop, getting her notebook out in preparation for class.

"What's your area of study?" Rachel asks to make conversation while she waits for lecture to start.

"I'm doing live acting with a focus in comedy. Improv is my thing."

"You can  _have_  that narrow of a focus?"

The girl next to her laughs. "You're at a school  _specifically_  for drama. Every program can be as narrowly focused as you want it to be. My parents really appreciate paying thousands of dollars for me to learn how to make people laugh," she jokes sarcastically.

"No, but it really is a legit thing here," she continues. "Saturday Night Live and other  _big_  name groups recruit directly from NYADA." Rachel raises her eyebrows in surprise, clearly impressed. "All the people in my program have a future career in it. They're the best of the best. But what about you? What's your focus?"

"Musical theater."

"Nice. I've heard that's one of the most selective programs here, because of how few students they accept. You must be good." Rachel smiles shyly at the compliment, but nods.

"It was a very selective process. I've never doubted my talent, but I still wondered whether or not I'd get accepted here."

"Well ms. musical theater, my name's Heejin. Yes, I know my name is very Korean. What's even better is that my sister's name is Emily. My parents couldn't decide if they wanted to be traditionalists or conformists."

Rachel laughs and repeats the girl's name in her head a couple of times to remember it properly, then introduces herself. "I'm Rachel."

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel. You should come to our improv comedy night tomorrow. We perform every Friday at seven in the lounge of the student union. Gotta get there a little earlier though if you want a decent seat. There's usually a pretty big turn out because it's open to the public."

Every so often, it still catches her off guard when total strangers are kind and welcoming to her. Even though she's been here for a month, her gut reaction is still to expect an insult or dismissal whenever she meets someone new.

"That sounds like fun! I don't have any plans tomorrow night. My roommate might want to come to. That sounds like something she would like."

"Sweet! Here's my cell number and my email if you want to contact me about anything. Also, I still need a study partner for this class so maybe we could start working together." She scrawls her contact info on a scrap of notebook paper and hands it to Rachel.

"Thanks. A study partner would be good." Their professor, an older woman with old acting methods, enters the front of the room. "I'll be sure to stop by after and say hi if I go tomorrow," Rachel tells her as their teacher turns on her microphone and beings the lecture.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn sits nervously at a corner table in Woodland, compulsively checking the time on her phone and glancing at her untouched vanilla latte. She needed to order it for appearance's sake, but her stomach is far too in knots for her to consume any coffee right now.

Just when she's about to check her phone again, even though it's only three minutes after the hour, she sees Jordan enter the coffee shop. He takes a quick glance around and notices her sitting in the corner.

"Hey Quinn!" he greets her with a smile and sets his backpack down next to the empty chair. "Let me just order a drink, and then I'll be right back."

"Okay." She nods, forcing a smile onto her face and watching him turn to walk towards the counter.

A couple of minutes later, he returns with some kind of nice smelling herbal tea in his hand and sits back in the chair across from her.

"So I gotta admit, I was a little confused why you wanted to meet up with me. I mean, you seem like a cool person and I'd like to hang out with you more so I totally don't mind. In another situation I might think it was a casual date or something, but-" he lets the unfinished sentence hang in the air and takes a sip of his tea.

Quinn anxiously clasps her hands together underneath the table and looks up at him. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." She fidgets awkwardly. Jordan looks at her curiously and patiently waits for her to elaborate. "Look, there's no easy way for me to say this, and I don't want to make you feel bad or anything but you need to know."

"Okay..." His brows furrow in confusion and he looks at her with slight concern etched onto his face.

"Last week, when I was on the track and you guys were leaving practice, you walked up when one of your teammates was asking me out. I don't…I don't know how you know about the girl at the party," she stutters slightly, "but you should know that I'm…I'm not really…out. I was actually very much in the closet until recently. That party was one big drunken mistake. I'm never like that normally, and to be honest I don't even really remember much of my behavior from that night. But…anyway, you told that guy that I played for a different team. And I know you were just trying to help me out to spare me the awkwardness, but…"

The rest of Quinn's sentence trails off as she has trouble voicing her thoughts. Jordan catches on though and looks at her with surprise and concern. "Oh shit, Quinn. I had no idea. I'm so sorry. I just assumed because of how you were at the party and how easily you turned down guys from my frat. I had no idea this was something that you were keeping on the down low."

She lets out a shaky breath when she realizes that he is sympathetic to this whole mess and that he understands. That just made this conversation  _loads_  easier.

"I know you didn't. There's no way you could have known. We don't know each other that well. Look, I know there's no way to undo what's already been said. But if you could not tell other people and maybe ask your soccer team to not be so open about it, I'd really appreciate it. The damage has already been done, but it would at least make me feel a little better."

"Sure, of course," he agrees immediately. Quinn ducks her head in embarrassment at the awkwardness of it all and sucks in a deep breath.

"Quinn, I don't know much about you or your background at all. And I'm not sure how involved you've gotten with things on campus yet. But you should know that this campus is incredibly LGBT friendly. More so than a lot of colleges in the U.S. Whenever you  _are_  ready to be more open about this, just know that most people will accept it without much of a second thought."

"That's so bizarre," Quinn shakes her head in disbelief, trying to absorb the reality of his statement. She had assumed that her counselor  _had_  to be professional about her sexuality. She had no idea that this could actually be somewhat of a campus-wide mentality.

"Where are you from, Quinn?" he asks her kindly.

"Lima. A  _very_  conservative small town in Ohio."

Jordan gives her a small smile of understanding. "That explains a lot. Things are different here, Quinn. I'm actually involved in the main campus Pride group here."

Quinn blinks in surprise and leans forward. "You're gay?" she asks bluntly, shocked.

He laughs loudly in response and then takes another sip of his tea. "No, I'm not gay. I'm very much into the ladies. That's the other thing about this place, Quinn. There are people who identify as heterosexual that are really involved in LGBT activities and events. A lot of people who are passionate about equality get involved and show support. I'm connected with Pride because I've been a DJ for several of their events. If there's any group who wants a fabulous and quality DJ for their events, it's Pride," he says with a laugh.

"So straight people here just willingly and openly support the gay community?" she questions, still confused about how this actually works.

"I mean, not  _all_  people. You still see the usual prejudice. But that's a minority here. You're much more likely to find people who are accepting than not," he patiently explains to her.

Quinn stares at him blankly. Maybe there really was a fateful purpose to her ending up at Yale.

"The main LGBT group meets on Sundays at five. You should come. I can even show up with you if that would make you more comfortable. No one will ask you about your sexuality. It's one of the unspoken rules there."

"Why do you keep calling it the  _main_  LGBT group? Is there more than one or something?" she asks in confusion.

Jordan grins and pauses for a moment, relishing in the answer that he's about to give her. "There's actually eight sub-groups for the LGBT community on campus, I believe."

Quinn's mouth drops open in surprise. " _Eight?_  God, how many gay people  _are_  there at Yale?"

Jordan laughs and shakes his head. "It's not just gay people, Quinn. There's straight allies, like I said. But then you've got a whole other array of…categories, for lack of a better word. Some people are bisexual, some people are transgendered, and some people don't like to self-identify with a particular gender. One of the groups is specifically a support group for trans students. Another is an LGBT group for people of color. And now that I think about it, it's technically LGBT _Q_. Everyone just says LGBT most of the time though."

"I don't even know what the Q  _stands_  for," Quinn looks at Jordan, overwhelmed and trying to adjust to this gigantic shift in worldview of the peers that now surround her. He smiles widely at her, and Quinn eventually breaks into a smile too, laughing lightly and shaking her head.

"I know it's a lot of new stuff, Quinn. That's why I think you could really benefit from checking out the campus Pride group. And the Q stands for queer."

Quinn bites her lip, afraid to tell him that she doesn't even know what that means and decides to google it later instead. The only time she's ever heard the word queer is when the neanderthal jocks at McKinley used to toss it around as a derogatory insult.

She thinks about everything that he has said, everything that he claims to be true at Yale. The thought of going to this meeting makes her nervous, but it's nervous  _excitement_. Excitement that there's a safe environment at her school where she can finally be herself and not have to worry. Excitement that she's not alone.

"I think I might be willing to give it try. If you come with me, though. I'll probably ditch if I try to show up by myself."

"No problem." His eyes light up when she agrees. "Just tell me where to meet you and we'll go together."

Quinn smiles at him, and relaxes back into her chair. She even manages to finally enjoy a sip of her latte. This meet up with Jordan has gone  _way_  better than she ever initially hoped it would.

"So…there's a lot of gay women at Yale?" Quinn asks him shyly, biting her lip.

Jordan laughs loudly and then looks into Quinn's eyes, amusement written all over his face.

" _Oh_  yeah. And I'll be the first to inform you that- when you start showing up at some pride meetings and get some more confidence in you- you are gonna have women hanging _all_  over you. Trust me." He grins at the deep blush that forms on her cheeks and winks.

"That's, uh, good to know," she mumbles, face bright red. "But I'm not interested in that. I just want a place where I can be comfortable and feel like I belong."

"I think it could definitely be that place for you. But why not interested?" he quirks his eyebrow in question. "You're gorgeous, Quinn, and other women are going to notice. I promise you that."

Quinn bites her lip and looks out the window on the wall next to her.

_You're hot and you're in college, Quinn, so I'd get used to the come-ons now if I were you_.

Rachel's comment from one of their previous skype conversations passes through her mind. If only she was actually interested in the come-ons of other people.

Jordan eyes her curiously for a moment before guessing it himself. "There's a girl, isn't there?"

Quinn's lips quirk up and her gaze roams around the room, avoiding eye contact with him. Finally she settles her gaze somewhere around his forehead. "Yeah, there's a girl," she admits.

"Well whoever managed to snag you as their girlfriend is one lucky woman," he tells her.

Quinn cringes, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before reopening them and staring uncomfortably back at him. "She's, ah, not my girlfriend," she confesses, embarrassed.

"What do you mean?"

"It's complicated." She takes a long sip of her latte to buy time. "Seriously, it's  _way_  complicated. Not like facebook relationship status complicated. I mean  _really_  freaking complicated."

He lets out a low whistle, but doesn't question her further. Maybe sometime once they know each other better, they can talk about it. But for right now, he really doesn't consider it to be his business.

"Well whoever she is, she would be lucky to have you, Quinn. And hopefully some day it will work out."

Quinn's smiles softly at him. "Thank you. For everything. This is not at all how I expected this to go. You have no idea how much this means to me that you've been so gracious about all of this."

"It's no problem. And I may or may not have hidden ulterior motives for getting you interested in Pride."

"Oh  _really_?" she questions, smiling and raising her eyebrow at him.

"Uh huh. But my lips are sealed until Sunday. I think you'll be excited though."

"Tease." Quinn fakes an exaggerated frown and lightly kicks him in the shin under the table.

"You betcha."

They settle into comfortable silence for a moment, and Quinn takes another few sips of her drink.

"Alright, so the athlete in me is begging to switch topics because I gotta ask you- what sport did  _you_  play? Because I've never seen a female student- hell,  _any_  student- just show up at the track and run for nearly six miles at that pace without stopping like you did last Friday."

Quinn grins at him, knowing that she's going to have fun with this answer.

"I was a cheerleader."

He stares at her blankly, complete and utter confusion written across his face. " _Cheerleading_? No way, man. I don't buy it."

She chuckles and leans back in her chair, getting comfortable.

"Let me tell you about a woman named Sue Sylvester…"

**XXxxXX**

There's about a hundred people crowded into the moderately sized lounge area of the student union when her and Naomi get there at a quarter 'til seven. Some are sitting on sofas, others on foldable chairs, and some are scattered along the floor.

They pick a spot along the back wall where the floor is elevated and gives them a good view, content to stand at least for the first part of the show.

"So what do you know about this group?" Naomi asks her, glancing around at the crowd of people gathered.

"Nothing really. Just that this girl named Heejin from my intro acting class is a part of the group. Apparently they're a popular improv group here on campus," Rachel answers her, looking around curiously as well.

"If the crowd's any indication, I'd say they're definitely popular," Naomi comments.

Thirty minutes later, it's very clear why they have such a strong following. Naomi and Rachel are leaned against the back wall, crying with laughter as they watch the troupe of people illuminated by spotlights improvising an alien invasion at a tea party candidate rally.

(These people can literally make  _any_  ridiculous prompt work.)

"We're  _so_  doing this every Friday," Naomi laughs out, hunched over and trying to catch her breath.

"Oh yeah. For sure." Rachel agrees, wiping at her eyes and listening to one of the actors read out the next prompt being pulled from the jar of audience ideas.

Life in New York-

It's starting to feel really great.


	13. Chapter 13

Equilibrium. Steady state.

It's one of those scientific concepts that she had to struggle through for her Honors chemistry course during junior year. Rachel remembers flicking through her textbook, looking at diagrams and trying to process the difference between rates and amounts, trying to discern what finally indicated that the components had leveled out.

She isn't much one for science at all, but she's always been one for metaphors. Right now, this tricky concept of equilibrium, of balance, is the first comparison that comes to mind while she eats a Sunday brunch by herself in the dining hall.

She thinks of Quinn, of how things have been recently, and also of how things used to be for them. Quinn's recent actions and behavior have led to her thinking about their present relationship, and her playwriting assignment has caused her to spend time reflecting on their past.

What she ultimately realizes is that, though there have been a multitude of stages to her relationship with Quinn, they have  _never_  been at equilibrium.

In the old days, it was like combustion. Volatile and heated. Unpredictable and hugely off balance.

Things have leveled out a lot more since then, and the closest they've ever managed to get to a steady-state was probably this past summer. Even then, there was the subtle undercurrent of uneven exchange, the result of grievances buried and grudges held at bay.

But now, just as they have finally been starting to reach their equilibrium, Rachel can't help but feel that some new element has rushed in and begun to push things away from balance all over again.

She feels a bit like she did last fall, when her and Quinn had established a mutual kindness between each other but still weren't quite sure how to act. They ended up talking about mundane things, things that held little significance, because they didn't know how to approach talking about all the stuff that mattered.

Except now, there's no tentativeness to her friendship with Quinn. Instead, it's the awkwardness and unexpectedness of recent confessions that have redirected them back to mundane conversations plagued with avoidance.

It's been five days since Quinn dropped that conversational bomb on her, and now she's acting like she never detonated it in the first place. They have talked twice since then, once on the phone and once on skype. Both conversations were less than half an hour in length, and were limited to  _how was your day?_  and  _how are your classes going?_ and _what's new on campus?_.

Rachel has yet to find a tactful way of saying, "So about the other day when you told me you got drunk and slept with a woman…"

There's really no comfortable way to bring that up, and Quinn's utter avoidance of the topic certainly hasn't helped matters.

Instead, she's left to dwell on this information on her own. And Rachel Berry fixating on something, without having a conversational outlet to deal with it externally, is rarely a good thing.

Five days later, and it still feels like a mental jolt every time Quinn's confession comes to mind. Her best friend, the girl who used to fight with her over boys, had sex with a woman at the first party she went to in college.

She honestly can't decide which is more shocking- that Quinn had sex with a stranger, or that the stranger was a woman. She's inclined to lean towards the whole woman aspect of it, because where the hell did  _that_  come from?

Though she's surprised that Quinn would be so casual about sex, given her history with Puck and her generally conservative background on all things sexual, the fact that it was with a woman increases the confusion tenfold.

The biggest conclusion that she's managed to reach so far is that Quinn's inebriation at the time was clearly the ultimate influencer. What she's still trying to figure out is whether the alcohol just severely influenced her decision to hook up with someone at a party, or if the alcohol also played a major role in her choice of sexual partner.

How much of it was the alcohol?

And how much of it was Quinn?

The thought that Quinn Fabray could be anything other than completely heterosexual is spinning her mind in circles.

She can't figure out if this was just the result of some  _hardcore_  alcohol consumption, or if this was actually a possible indicator of Quinn's sexual preference.

The only thing she can conclude with certainty is that Quinn must have been absolutely catatonic when she woke up the next morning.

And she can't help but feel a little hurt that she didn't find out about this until weeks later. Isn't that what best friends are for, moments like that?

Perhaps Rachel's lack of sexual experience led Quinn to seek solace and advice elsewhere. Her experiences with Finn had been manageable at best, and only happened a handful of times before the distance and then eventual break up happened.

But just because she hasn't had the most extensive sex life doesn't mean that Quinn shouldn't have come to her. She knows Quinn better than just about anybody, and therefore would have been able to help regardless of her own lack of personal experience.

She just hopes that Quinn has talked to  _someone_ , because if not, she has absolutely no idea how Quinn has dealt with this.

That's when she realizes-

Of  _course_  she's not the one Quinn would call first, not when she has someone in her life with far more experience in these matters.

She pulls her phone out of her bag and scrolls through her contacts, selecting the right name and then raising the speaker to her ear.

The phone rings twice before a very surly voice lashes out through the phone. "Who is this and why the fuck are you calling me at eight am on a Sunday?"

"Oh my gosh, sorry Santana! I totally forgot about the time difference!"

"Berry? Is that you?" Santana's voice, raspy with sleep and late night partying, filters through the speaker.

"Yes, it's me."

"Why the hell are you calling so early? You've got twenty seconds to give me a reason before I hang up on you and go back to bed."

She doesn't take Santana's threat completely to heart, mainly because she thinks there's a definite possibility that Santana  _did_  check the caller ID before answering and therefore was willing to answer for her at the early hour. Either way, she doesn't want to give Santana a reason to be even grumpier, so she jumps straight to the point.

"Quinn told me what happened at her first Yale party, and I'm wondering if you're the one she called after it happened."

"What?" She hears the rustling of sheets as Santana sits up, and her voice is suddenly much more alert. "You're gonna have to be specific, Berry. This better not be some con to get me to give you the details. I need to know that you know."

"I know that Quinn got drunk and had sex with a woman, Santana," Rachel sighs into the phone.

"Shit," Santana curses on the other line, and then she hears more rustling.

"Who're you talkin' to, San?" a muffled voice in the background asks sleepily.

"Don't worry about it, babe. Go back to sleep," she hears Santana murmur softly in an entirely different tone of voice.

She hears movement and then the sound of a door clicking shut before Santana's voice comes through the line again. "How did you find out?"

"She told me last Tuesday. So I'm guessing you're the one she told then, aren't you?"

"Mhmmm," she replies groggily, with lots of loud noises clanging around in the background.

"So you-" Rachel cuts herself off at the distracting sounds filtering through the phone. "Santana, what are you doing?"

"Making coffee," she bites back. "I refuse to have actual conversations in the morning without caffeine, let alone talk about this shit with you. Fuck, I'm probably gonna need an espresso shot or something," she mumbles the last bit distractedly.

"Okay, I can be quiet for a couple minutes while your coffee brews."

"Thank you," she sighs gratefully.

Rachel sits in impatient silence, staring at her empty bowl of oatmeal and tapping her shoes against the linoleum floor. A hundred different questions race through her mind.

Who was the girl? Did Quinn freak out? Was she panicked? Was she crying? Was she questioning her sexuality? How did this  _happen_?

Finally, the sound of Santana taking a long sip of coffee right by the speaker announces her return, and then Santana's voice asks neutrally, "So what do you know? I need to know exactly what she told you before I can say anything."

"Why?" Rachel whines.

"Because I'm pretty certain that what Quinn told you and what Quinn told me are two very different things, and I'm not about to spill shit to you that Q doesn't want you to know," Santana tells her bluntly.

"But why would she tell you stuff and not tell me?"

" _Rachel!_ " she snaps, exasperated.

"Fine! A little over a week ago, Quinn the ice queen came back and it was quite unpleasant. She was sophomore Quinn all over again. We didn't talk for four days, and when we finally did talk she didn't want to tell me anything. I demanded that she provide  _some_  kind of explanation for her erratic behavior, even if she couldn't explain her actions during high school. She told me that at her first party, she got drunk and slept with a girl. Then she said she couldn't talk about any more than that, and begged me to let it go for now. That was Tuesday and she still hasn't said anything more."

"So basically Quinn told you almost nothing, and you know she left a bunch of crap out, and now you're calling me about it," Santana sighs. Quinn really needs to get it together. She  _never_  agreed to play the fucking middle man while Q tried to get her feelings and shit sorted out.

"In a nutshell, yes."

"What exactly do you want from me, Rachel?" Santana asks her, not unkindly. She has to be  _very_  careful about how she handles this conversation. If she lets anything slip that she shouldn't, Quinn will flay her alive.

"I want to know what happened. Was she upset? Why didn't she tell me? And why wasn't she harsh with me earlier on if this happened weeks ago? Why just recently?"

Santana furrows her brow at that too. Rachel is right. The thing at the party happened a while ago, so she doesn't have a clue why ice Quinn suddenly showed up just this week. She'll have to talk to Q about it later, but for right now she's got to deal with Rachel.

"Look, Rachel, I know you care about Quinn. But I also know the only reason you're calling me is because you're too afraid to ask Q these questions yourself. You know I can't answer them for you, even if hypothetically I  _do_  have the answers. You gotta talk to her if you want to know."

Now that it's clear that Santana  _does_  know, jealousy and hurt are seeping forward. A significant thing happened with her best friend, and she was completely left out of it.

"Please, Santana. I don't know what's going on, and she won't tell me anything. I'm worried about her."

"How would you feel if you found out that someone who Quinn trusts betrayed her?"

Rachel is silent for moment, confused.

"Because that's basically what you're asking me to do. I'm sure Quinn has her reasons for why she's handled this the way that she has. But  _I'm_  not the one you should be asking."

If circumstances were different, if Quinn had actually  _explained_  herself for once and Rachel was seeking advice from someone who knows Quinn, then maybe she'd be willing to talk. But right now, when it seems like Rachel is almost as clueless as she was before, she can't even attempt a conversation. Because saying anything beyond "Quinn fucked some girl" would be a betrayal of Quinn's confidence at this point.

And telling Rachel "Quinn fucked some girl, but she wishes it was you"- well, no thanks, she'd rather  _not_ be stabbed in the jugular by a raging blonde.

Anything she could say right now all links back to that core secret, so she's pretty much stuck.

"I'm sorry, Rachel."

Rachel sighs in defeat, but ultimately she can see that Santana is right. This isn't Santana's story to share, and quite frankly, she'd rather hear it from Quinn anyway.

"I understand. Thanks for even taking my call. We should catch up sometime soon when you're actually fully awake and not fighting to protect Quinn."

Santana chuckles and agrees. "You got it. Can I go back to bed now?"

"I thought you just made coffee," Rachel comments, confused.

"Never said I was gonna sleep, Berry."

It takes a second and then Rachel catches on. "Okay. Yeah, um, you go do that. Enjoy your Sunday, Santana."

Santana just laughs. "Bye, Rachel."

As soon as she disconnects the call, she pulls up a new text message to draft.

_TALK TO YOUR GIRL Q. She just called me because apparently you've been too chicken shit to explain anything to her. Also I heard you let the ice queen out of her cage. The hell is that about?_

She types rapidly and hits send, then leaves the mug of coffee on the counter of their little kitchen and re-enters her bedroom. She can always microwave her coffee later.

As she slides beneath the sheets, Brittany turns around to cuddle into her warmth.

"What's going on?" she breathes the question into Santana's neck.

"Not much. Quinn's still head over heels for Rachel and acting like an idiot. And Rachel's still fucking clueless. Q told her about the girl though, but didn't give her any details."

"Q shouldn't worry so much. Rach's in love with her too," Brittany mumbles before drifting back to sleep. Santana scrunches her eyebrows in confusion and cranes her neck to look down at her snoozing girlfriend.

There's really only two ways to take that comment. The first is that Brittany is being her usual self, slightly disjointed from reality and filling in the gaps with her own thoughts.

Or, she is once again the person who is more intuitive than the rest of them.

The one, well, that's just an average Sunday. The other-

That could be a game changer.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn nearly chokes on the coffee in her mouth when Santana's text beeps through. As if everything right now wasn't complicated enough, now Rachel has gotten so desperate she was willing to call Santana just to make sense of everything. Add that to the fact that Santana still doesn't know she basically got outed last week, and everything is  _really_ one giant mess.

She groans and drops her head into her hands, leaning one elbow against the back of the bench where she's currently sitting trying to get through her Chaucer reading. At least, she was until Santana had to barge in and disrupt her peaceful morning.

She stares at the text for a couple of minutes debating how she wants to answer, before she finally just lays the truth out bare.

_**I was a bitch because someone unintentionally outed me last week and Rachel called right after it happened. Turns out several people at Yale already know I'm gay.**_

There's no reply for several minutes, and Quinn gets lost in another Canterbury tale, temporarily forgetting about any potential reply.

When a text does come through though, she can almost  _hear_  Santana yelling in LA.

_WHAT? Did you mount that girl right on the dance floor or something? How the fuck do people even know? And why the hell didn't you call me? I've basically got the MANUAL on what to do when some d-bag outs you!_

As she prepares to type a reply, Santana's face pops up on her screen and the phone starts to ring.

She hits the accept call button and raises the phone to her ear. "Hey."

"Hey?  _Hey_? You're really just gonna say  _hey_  after you send me a fucking  _text_ message that you got outed last week?"

"It's fine, San. I mean, it wasn't fine. Not at first. I kinda had a panic attack, and then took it out on Rachel. But I met up with the guy who said something, and he had no idea. He completely thought I was already out. He's actually a really nice guy. I'm going with him to the campus Pride meeting later today," Quinn explains.

" _Pride_? You're joining the LGBT club on campus? So much for baby steps. Damn, Q. I'm pissed you didn't call me, but I gotta hand it to you. You're really fighting to move forward, aren't you?" She hears something akin to pride in Santana's voice.

"Yeah, I am." Quinn toys with the lid of her coffee cup and watches the leaves fall off of the tree next to her.

"Alright, before you tell me what happened, I gotta ask- what's the deal with you and Rachel right now? 'Cause she seems  _really_  frustrated and confused, Quinn. Maybe even a little hurt."

Quinn sighs and tips her head back, tracing her gaze along the intricate patterns of branches and leaves that intertwine above her. She really didn't have any chance of avoiding talking about this.

"I told Rachel what happened because she  _needed_  some kind of explanation to cling to. She was reaching the breaking point. I could tell. I figured it would be a lot easier to tell her I drunkenly hooked up with some girl and let her make assumptions, rather than tell her I got outed and have to confess everything to her."

"You need to get your shit together soon, Q. She's not gonna be patient forever. Not when you're acting like this."

Quinn sighs and closes her eyes, resigning herself to the truth of Santana's claim.

"I know, San. Trust me, I'm fighting for her in  _so_  many ways right now. She just doesn't know it yet."

**XXxxXX**

A couple of minutes before five, Jordan meets her in front of the building to walk into to meeting with her.

"Hey Quinn!" He gives her a light hug. "You ready?"

"Yeah." She nods nervously.

He notices how tense she is and steps in front of her, forcing her to make eye contact. "You're gonna be okay. Remember what I told you. No one's going to ask questions. We'll just walk in, I'll say hi and maybe introduce you to a couple people, then we'll sit down and listen for a while. Okay?"

"Okay, yeah. Let's do this." She nods once resolutely and then opens the door of the social sciences building where the meetings are held.

The first thing she notices when she walks in is that this really just looks like a room full of students. A few of them are dressed a little differently then she's used to, and maybe she sees a little more variety in hairstyles. But other than, there's really nothing different.

A girl with really short black hair and square-rimmed glasses walks up to them. "Hey, Jordan!" She gives him a big hug, and glances at Quinn.

"Hey, Jessie, how's it goin'? I want you to meet me friend Quinn." He looks at Quinn and then points at Jessie. "Quinn, this is Jessie. She's one of our main event coordinators."

"It's nice to meet you, Quinn," she says kindly, shaking her hand.

Quinn nods with a smile. "You too."

"Well you picked a good meeting to come to. We're planning out some fun stuff tonight." She winks at Jordan, then moves on to greet some other people who just arrived.

"What is she talking about?" Quinn asks him curiously.

"You'll see in a little bit." He grins back at her.

Thirty minutes later, it's very clear that Jordan was right. These are just students who have come together with a common interest. Right now there are students having a discussion about gender stereotypes and frustrations that they have encountered either on campus or in life outside of Yale in general.

"I've never heard anyone talk about this stuff in my life," Quinn admits to Jordan in a whisper. He smiles at her and nods in understanding.

At least no one is making her talk. She can sit here in silence and listen without being forced to participate.

"That's actually a really good segue into our next big thing to discuss," a guy with blonde curly hair says after a student concludes with her point. "As most of you know, every year we put together one huge fundraiser event. We've been talking about this on and off for a while now, but now that we're less than three weeks away it's time to get into full logistics. The event planning committee has been working on this since last Spring, and they're going to fill you in on all the details tonight for those of you who aren't caught up with what's going on. Jessie, you want to take it from here?"

The girl from earlier nods and stands up, drawing the attention to her. "Thanks, Reed. So yeah, like Reed was saying, every year we do a big event on campus to bring awareness to the LGBTQ community and also to raise money. As most of you are aware right now, this year we're doing a gender-bender fashion show. Some designers who are connected to alumni are involved in the project, as well as design students on campus. There's going to be four hundred pay ticket seats, and then a cheaper limited standing area for students. Most of the tickets have already been sold to students, faculty, and alumni, so we're definitely expecting a large turn-out. It should be a lot of fun!"

Quinn's eyes widen in surprise and confusion. What on earth is a gender-bender? Is this like that the stereotype thing they were talking about earlier?

Jordan can sense her confusion and whispers in her ear, "It pushes the boundaries on what men versus women wear. There will be women in menswear, men in stereotypically feminine styled clothing, and tons of other stuff too. Think of it like swapping, and then some."

Quinn slowly nods, keeping her eyes focused on Jessie and what she is saying too. "So for those who might be interested, we're still looking for ten or so more models for the show. We've got twenty-six lined up so far. Talk to me after if you're interested."

Jessie continues to explain all the administrative and coordination details of the event. When she wraps up her presentation, most of the students go back to talking. Quinn overhears one person telling someone else about coming out to their parents this Thanksgiving and how they should approach it, while another group near her starts talking about some political rally that's coming up.

In many ways, this group is exactly what Jordan said it would be. It's a safe place for people to address LGBT issues, but it's also just a social group where friends get together and catch up.

Jordan is talking to some guy next to him, and Quinn spends her time slowly observing different parts of the room and taking in the scene. She's people watching, and even though so much of this meeting rebelled against everything she's ever been taught, she feels oddly at home here. Maybe not quite comfortable yet, but definitely the potential to get there in the coming meetings.

"Quinn." Jordan taps her on the shoulder and she turns back around to face him. "I want you to meet my friend Hayden. He's one of the designers for the show."

"Hi Hayden." She smiles politely and reaches over Jordan to shake his hand.

"Oh,  _please_  tell me you're going to model in the show," he says with flair. "I'm already getting ideas for wardrobe for you. Semi-formal wear. Ooh, with that bone structure and figure, you would look  _fiiine_."

Quinn blushes in response and ducks her head shyly. "That's kind of you, but I really don't think that would be for me. I'm very new to this club. And I've always been more of a baby doll dresses kind of girl."

"Everyone's new at some point, Quinn," he says with a smile. "And as for the dresses- all the more reason to do it! It's the runway, not your life. There's plenty of people participating who don't wear those styles normally. It's just a matter of awareness and doing something fun for a good cause. Half the money is going to the Trevor Project."

"They're a hotline for at risk LGBTQ youth," Jordan adds helpfully. "I understand if you're not interested right now. This is all really new. But just think about it. It would be a really great way to meet people here and do something fun that's out of your comfort zone. Plus, I'll be the one DJing the event."

"Okay, I'll think about it," Quinn concedes politely.

Internally, she tosses all possibility aside. Wearing men's clothes on a runway in front of five hundred people?

No way in  _hell_  is that happening.

Jordan gives her a knowing smile.

It unnerves her.

She knows she hasn't heard the end of this yet.


	14. Chapter 14

"Rachel Berry," the TA calls her name out and she quickly walks forward to pick up her assignment before returning to her seat. It's the beginning of class on Monday, just a little over a week since she turned in her entirely new play proposal, and she's finally getting the feedback that she has been anxious to see.

At the bottom of her typed proposal, there is an A minus circled and clearly written in blue ink. The comment below reads, "Fantastic job. Vast improvement from the first proposal."

Rachel smiles with pride and tucks the assignment away into her folder. Maybe at some point she'll talk to her professor about the minus on her A, but for now she's happy with how much her grade improved from the initial proposal.

"Alright, hopefully everyone who turned in a proposal has received their papers back. So now we're going to talk about what these proposals are actually for. On the syllabus, many of you have probably noticed that there is a 'main project' listed as a significant portion of your grade. Both the rough draft and the final draft are mentioned. Over the course of the semester, you are going to write your proposal in to a play."

There's a slight groan that comes from a few of the students, and Rachel is one of them. If she thought a proposal was difficult, that is going to be insignificant in comparison to the task of writing an actual play.

"Some of you may be wondering why we are making you as  _actors_  do this, or why you even have to take this class in the first place."

A couple of students nod their heads and Rachel silently agrees.

"Think of it like you're a musician in an academic setting. If you are someone who performs, but does not compose, chances are you are great with  _reading_  music and have probably had some level of background in music theory. Yet in most music programs, performers must also take musical  _composition_  at some point, regardless of their intent to ever compose. Why? Because it helps them to see their craft from a different angle. And in doing so, it makes them better performers. The same goes with acting. Even if you never intend to write plays or screenplays, observing your craft from the angle of the written word will help you in becoming more well-rounded actors. There are several people in academia who would disagree with this, but this is the view that NYADA holds. I think that many of you will be surprised by how much you end up getting out of this project. But I'll be very clear- you'll only get as much out of this as you put into it."

Rachel sits in their modestly sized lecture hall and focuses on her professor's justification for this project. Though she still disagrees about some things, she can at least understand where his point of view.

However, all understanding and acceptance of this class is secondary to the fact that she now has to write an entire play about her history with Quinn. Granted, it's technically Monica and Lily.

But  _really_ , it's her and Quinn.

And with everything that's been going on recently, the last thing she wants to do is attempt to cathartically explore the intent behind Quinn's behavior in high school through playwriting.

The proposal was satisfying to write, but an actual play means something entirely different. This isn't just about summaries any more-

She has to fully delve into the psyche and behavior of one high school Quinn Fabray.

Rachel can already sense the frustration and emotional exhaustion that  _that_  endeavor is going to involve.

**XXxxXX**

Even though she has been sitting in Dr. Carlton's office talking to her for nearly half an hour, Quinn still hasn't relaxed back into her chair. She's told her counselor about how things went with Jordan and the campus Pride meeting, but no real issues have been addressed. Dr. Carlton notices the smile on her face, and the simultaneous tension in her posture.

"What's really on your mind, Quinn?"

She gazes out the window at the branches being stripped bare of fall leaves by the late October wind.

"Rachel."

"Rachel seems to be one of the very few things you  _have_  talked about, Quinn," her counselor notes. "In fact, this young woman has dominated a lot of our conversations. Why do you think that is?"

Quinn contemplates the question, choosing to continue staring out the window rather than make eye contact.

"I think," she slowly ponders out loud. "I think it's because…a  _lot_  of my issues can be connected to her in some way. Some much more so than others. Not in the sense that she actually  _causes_  all of them, but more that she just makes them resurface."

"Like what?"

Quinn closes her eyes briefly and inhales a deep breath. This is new conversational territory for them.

"Like my insecurities about how I look." Dr. Carlton raises her eyebrows slightly in contained surprise. "I took my own insecurities out on her, because she was always so annoyingly confident in herself. I thought that someone with such loser status had no right to be so self-confident, when I felt so awful about myself while ruling the school."

Her counselor looks at her with interest. Quinn had mentioned her bullying of Rachel, but they hadn't explored any details of it yet.

"So how does that relate to Rachel today?" she questions.

"A couple of ways, I guess. One is that she reminds of my own insecurities. I see her, and I remember how I used to try to rid myself of my own insecurities by lashing out at her. She's like a physical reminder that I never have been, or am even right now, fully comfortable in my own skin."

Dr. Carlton records a couple of notes on her writing pad, but remains quiet, waiting for Quinn to voice her other reasons.

"The other, the one that's the bigger issue right now," Quinn continues, "is that I look at her. I look at her and I wonder how I could  _ever_  tell her that I'm attracted to her, when I was the one more than  _anybody_  else who told her she  _wasn't_  beautiful. What even gives me the right to tell her how gorgeous she is when I used to mock her appearance so cruelly?"

Quinn clenches her fist in frustration, loathing how her old methods of dealing with Rachel have now come back to make things that much harder on herself.

"How do you feel about people on campus knowing that you're gay, Quinn?"

Quinn turns her eyes away from the window and back to her counselor, confused by the complete non-sequitor.

"I promise this relates. Just bear with me for a moment and answer the question."

She's about to protest the change in topic, but decides against it.

"I think…my answer to that question would have been entirely different a week ago. At this point, it's more just the fact that I'm not used to being open about it. I'm realizing that I don't have to worry so much about judgment from other people. Like, once someone knows, I feel relatively comfortable with them knowing just because this is such an accepting environment compared to where I'm from. It's knowing how and when to  _tell_  the person that I'm still getting used to."

Dr. Carlton nods in agreement and understanding. "That's what I thought. You still have some issues with it, which is entirely understandable considering how recently all of this happened. In fact, I'm inclined to say I'm quite impressed by your comfort level at this point."

Quinn blushes slightly and mutters a soft thank you, deflecting her gaze to the bookshelf along the opposite wall.

"So you're still uncomfortable, but you don't seem to be scared anymore. Would you agree with that statement?"

Quinn thinks about it for a moment and then nods her head. "Yeah. At Yale. Not anywhere else though. This place is like my safe bubble."

"Okay. So let me ask you this- what is it about telling Rachel that scares you the most?"

"Telling her what? That I'm gay, or that I'm gay for  _her_?" Quinn asks in clarification.

"Either. Both. Whichever. The two seem to be synonymous for you," Dr. Carlton observes.

At first, Quinn is inclined to disagree. But the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that that's actually kind of true.

"They kind of  _are_  the same. Because I keep thinking that once she knows I'm gay, it will be the final piece of information that she needs to figure out what's going on between _us_. Like, it will finally all make sense."

Quinn stares at the carpet, tapping her shoes into the soft material and twiddling her fingers with nervous energy.

"That may or may not be the case. But if it is- why would it be such a bad thing? The Rachel who you have described to me is an incredibly loving and accepting person. Regardless of how receptive she is to your romantic feelings, the information that you've given me about her seems to suggest that she wouldn't let your friendship falter for it. Do  _you_  think that she'll avoid you or treat you differently?"

Quinn continues to stare resolutely at the carpet, mulling over the question. "I think…I think it could get awkward for a while. But I don't think she'd ever get let the awkwardness take over or abandon our friendship. That's not the kind of person she is. She would learn to deal with it, and we'd move on."

"Quinn." Quinn continues to stare at the ground in avoidance. "Quinn," Dr. Carlton repeats her name, coercing her into looking up and making eye-contact. "Only you can decide when it's the right time, if ever, to tell Rachel. That said, as someone who you've sought out to give you advice, I'll ask you- what do you have to lose? Wouldn't temporary awkwardness be a fair trade in exchange for having all of this out in the open?"

Quinn rests her elbows on her knees, pressing her forehead into the palm of her hands. Small pools of moisture begin to collect in the corners of her eyes, the result of too much frustration and emotional strain.

"You don't get it," Quinn mutters dejectedly.

"What don't I get?" Dr. Carlton asks her in a kind unassuming tone.

"I'm not scared that she's going to be awkward or avoid me."

"What are you scared of then?" she questions gently.

Quinn lifts her head from her hands and locks her eyes onto the counselor sitting across from her.

"Think about it. I mocked her for years. Made her question her appearance, her self worth. Told her in so many ways that she wasn't beautiful."

Dr. Carlton stares back into Quinn's eyes, trying to understand her. She's quiet for a moment and then-

"You're scared she won't believe you," she states in realization.

Quinn blinks rapidly and presses her thumb against the corner of her eye, trying to hold the physical evidence of weakness at bay.

"Yeah," she mumbles quietly.

Dr. Carlton sits in silence, allowing Quinn to compose herself and collect her thoughts.

"It's just…I've liked her for  _so_  long. I'd rather keep it to myself and get to cling to the ridiculous notion that she could actually return my feelings. Rather that than tell her and be met with disbelief or indifference. What if after all this time, I tell her and she thinks I'm kidding? What if I tell her and she just flat out refuses to believe I think she's beautiful?"

Quinn wipes at her eyes furiously as her tear ducts betray her.

"I think, maybe, you should consider telling Rachel about your sexuality, independent of your feelings for her. At least for now. Think of it this way- your biggest concern about her knowing you're gay is that she'll realize your feelings for her. But the only way she could ever realize your feelings is if she actually  _believed_  they could be real. And your biggest fear is that she  _won't_  believe you. So either way, it's a decent scenario for you, Quinn. If she doesn't make the personal connection, then at least she'll know that you've been struggling with your sexuality, and that should help to alleviate some of the tension in your relationship right now. If she  _does_  make the connection, then, as terrifying as it might be, that's actually a good thing for you. Because it means she could take your romantic feelings for her seriously. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Quinn absorbs everything that her counselor is saying to her and nods, trying to make sure that she is understanding properly.

"So you're saying it could be a good thing if she realized how I feel, because that means she'd actually give the possibility of my romantic feelings genuine consideration. But if she doesn't figure it out, then at least she knows I'm gay and we can begin to move forward."

"Precisely." Dr. Carlton smiles at her.

"I'm exhausted. Therapy is exhausting." Quinn laughs a little at herself and wipes the remaining tears from her face.

Dr. Carlton laughs lightly too in understanding, handing Quinn a box of Kleenex so that she can blow her nose and clear the rest of the tears from her face.

**XXxxXX**

_**Let me know if you're available to skype tonight. I want to talk to you about some stuff.**_

The text from Quinn vibrates on her phone later that afternoon while she's at the library working on her music theory homework.

When she reads the text, she feels a glimmer of hope settle in her chest, hope that Quinn might finally be ready to talk for real.

_I'm just doing homework the rest of the evening. Tell me what time you want to skype and I'll be there._

She waits a couple of minutes for Quinn to reply, nervously tapping her highlighter against the desk.

_**How about seven? And please go somewhere where you're alone. I'd feel better not having other people around even if you've got headphones on. And also I don't want you to be distracted.**_

Okay, so they're definitely getting into more serious stuff tonight. Quinn  _never_  asks for her to be alone and undistracted when they skype.

_No problem. I'll ask Naomi if she can leave the room for a while and if not I'll find an empty study lounge. Talk to you soon Q!_

A final texts appears on her screen a moment later, and then she is back to staring at sheet music in the library.

The only problem is-

How the hell is she supposed to analyze Handel's  _Messiah_  now that she's got her talk with Quinn tonight to wonder about?

**XXxxXX**

At 6:59, Rachel has her skype completely set up and logged in while she sits at her desk and waits for Quinn's call. Naomi had no problems with leaving the room for a while, especially when she found out that Rachel might finally be working things out with Quinn.

As soon as the clock turns to seven, the chimes of the skype call begin to ring. Quinn must have been sitting at her computer waiting too.

She hits the accept call button and Quinn's face fills a large section of her screen. The first thing she notices is that Quinn is wearing that dorky t-shirt that she bought when they went shopping together over the summer. Santana had pointed it out as a joke, and Quinn had bought it for little reason other than to annoy Santana.

The second thing she notices is that Quinn seems to be incredibly nervous about something. She's fidgeting far more than she does when she's comfortable, and her lower lip is caught so roughly between her teeth that she's surprised it isn't drawing blood.

"Hi Quinn!" she says brightly, smiling despite the obvious discomfort already radiating off of her best friend.

"Hey Rach," Quinn still manages to smile at her.

"I would ask you how your day's been and stuff, but you look like you have something you  _really_  want to get off your chest, so I'm just gonna let you talk if that's okay."

Quinn nods and scratches at the side of her neck, a nervous tick and constant need to be doing  _something_  with her hands right now.

"Yeah, um. Well first I just wanna say I'm sorry. For how things have been lately. I'm not stupid- I know it's been awkward. I know we haven't been talking like we normally do. So that's kinda why I wanted to talk you tonight. I want to explain some things. I want to explain so that we can get back to being best friends who aren't awkward. I  _hate_  when we're awkward," Quinn nervously spews out.

Rachel smiles softly at Quinn's obvious nervousness. "It's just me, Quinn. Whatever you have to say, it's alright. Slow down. Just breathe."

Quinn focuses on Rachel's face on her computer screen and inhales a deep calming breath. "Okay," she says with a nod.

"I told you I slept with a girl after the party, and then I totally ignored it," Quinn laughs humorlessly, rubbing at her forehead. "Sorry about that. I can't imagine how many questions you probably had. Actually…I  _can_  imagine. You had enough questions that you eventually called Santana."

Rachel blushes and ducks her head, embarrassed. "Sorry. That definitely wasn't one of my proudest moments."

Quinn smiles, understanding. "I get it. You had a lot of questions about stuff that I refused to talk about. But I'm ready to talk now."

Rachel looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. Quinn watches, laughing nervously.

"Just ask me, Rach. 'Cause I honestly don't know what you're thinking, or what you even want answers to. So just ask."

Rachel pauses in thought, trying to figure out which question she wants to ask first.

"Did you know her?"

Quinn immediately shakes her head. "No. First time I ever met her was on the dance floor. And I haven't seen her since the day after."

Rachel looks at her curiously, trying to understand how this all happened.

"How drunk  _were_  you, Quinn? Because not only did you have casual sex, but you had casual sex with a girl, neither of which are the norm for you."

"I was drunk, Rachel. But not as entirely wasted as you seem to think I was. I was aware enough to make decisions and voice consent, and I was aware enough at the time that I remembered most of the night the next morning. Certain things were hazy, but I could remember the basics."

Quinn taps at her desk, waiting for the next in the line of Rachel's questions.

At some point, there's got to be an obvious moment where she can come out to her best friend. For heaven's sake, they're talking about her hooking up with a girl. The  _girl_ aspect of the hook up is bound to be addressed soon enough.

"So, were you just curious, or…?" Rachel asks awkwardly.

Ah, there's the question she's been waiting for.

"You mean because I slept with a girl?" Quinn asks anyway, just to clarify for certain.

Rachel nods, watching Quinn intently.

"No, I wasn't curious."

Rachel looks at her in complete confusion.

"I pretty much already knew, Rach."

Rachel continues to stare at her, uncomprehending. "Knew…? What do you mean, Quinn?"

Quinn sucks in a deep breath and exhales shakily. This is it. Now or never.

"That's the thing, Rachel. What Santana knows. What I've been keeping from you because…well because of a lot of stupid complicated reasons."

Rachel scrunches her forehead, leaning closer to the screen even though she's got headphones plugged in and it won't make a difference.

Quinn inhales one last deep breath, despite the fact that she's certain oxygen is no longer circulating through her brain.

"I…I'm gay, Rachel," she stammers, voice cracking at the end.

Rachel's mouth opens slightly. But other than that, her face is completely expressionless. Even worse, her voice is completely silent.

"R-Rach?" Quinn stutters, hands shaking slightly now. Her heart feels like it's beating against her sternum and the shockwaves are pulsing all the way to her fingertips. She can't breathe. She honestly can't breathe, and she just  _really_  needs to hear Rachel say something before her lungs collapse.

Rachel blinks, grounding herself as she watches Quinn begin to unravel on her computer screen.

"Quinn, honey, breathe. It's okay," she tells her soothingly, trying to calm her best friend as they attempt to navigate through this conversation that she  _really_  wishes wasn't happening over webcam. If they were in the same room right now, she'd already have her arms wrapped fiercely around Quinn at this point.

But they're eighty miles apart right now, and all she's got is her words and her two dimensional face to get her best friend through this.

"It's okay," she repeats. "I'm just…surprised. The first year and a half of our lives together was spent primarily on arguing over boys. So I'm just trying to wrap my brain around it, okay? Just give me a second."

Quinn nods, exhaling in relief now that Rachel is actually talking and doesn't seem to be hanging up on her.

Rachel focuses, directing her thoughts past the surprise of it all so that she can be there for her best friend. There will be time to deal with the shock of this on her own later.

"Thank you for telling me, Quinn. I know how hard that must have been just now."

Quinn nods, but doesn't say anything. Her eyes are still searching the screen, trying to grasp at Rachel's unspoken thoughts on all of this.

"I love you, Quinn. You're my best friend. And this doesn't change  _anything_  between us, okay? I love you and I'm here for you no matter what, and your sexuality has no influence over that."

Quinn nods again, but still isn't talking.

" _Damn it_ , why do you have to be in New Haven right now? Do you have  _any_  idea how much I need to hug you right now?" Rachel tells her, desperate to be there in person for Quinn right now.

"I didn't want to wait because I didn't know when we would be visiting each other next. Things have already been awkward and keeping this from you any longer would have only made it worse. It was damaging our friendship and I felt like I was running out of time."

Quinn finally talks, trying to explain why she didn't do this in person. What she doesn't add is that she's not sure if she  _could_  have done this in person.

"It's alright, Quinn. Don't worry. I understand. I'm only saying that because I don't think I've ever felt the need to hug someone this much in my life, and it just really sucks that I can't right now."

"Knowing you want to give me a hug does help a little," Quinn admits, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"How long have you known this about yourself, Quinn?" Rachel asks her kindly and with curiosity.

" _Since the morning I woke up from a fantasy about you after spending the past month fixating on you,"_  she thinks.

"Quite a while," she says instead.


	15. Chapter 15

Right as she's drying her hands after scrubbing at the layers of paint caked to her skin, her phone starts to ring inside her messenger bag.

She quickly towels her hands dry and checks her phone to see an unfamiliar number lighting up her screen. The area code looks familiar though. She realizes that it's the same area code as Rachel's cell phone, and now she is almost positive that she knows who's calling her.

"Hello?" she asks, shouldering her bag and waving goodbye to the other students making their way out of the art studio.

"Naomi?" she recognizes Quinn's voice on the line.

"Yeah?"

"It's Quinn."

She steps into the elevator and pushes the ground floor button, pulling the speaker on her phone closer to her ear as she fumbles with her bag.

"Hey, Quinn! Gotta admit, at this point I wasn't expecting to ever get a call from you," Naomi jokes lightly. "What's up?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," she hears Quinn apologize awkwardly. "I appreciated your note, even if I never called you about it. It's actually kind of why I'm calling you right now."

Naomi listens with interest, curious to hear why Quinn is calling her. She sidesteps a student entering the elevator as she exits and makes her way over to the exit. Wednesdays are Gold Bar days, a coffee shop and hot spot for local musicians that's around the corner from campus. It's a great environment to leisurely do homework if you don't mind the background noise.

"I don't know if Rachel seemed different to you last night, or maybe this morning. But…I wanted to let you know that I came out to her last night." Naomi's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "She still doesn't know that I like her like that, but she knows I'm gay now."

Naomi smiles. "That's great, Quinn," she tells her genuinely. "I'm really happy for you. What does this have to do with me though? Not that I mind you telling me or anything," she adds hastily.

"Well there's a couple things that I wanted to bring up with you. The first is that I know how protective Rachel is of the people she cares about. I think she assumed that the only other person I'm out to is Santana, and even if that wasn't the case, I'm sure she would never say something to anyone else. But I also know how much Rachel needs to externalize things that she's thinking about. Usually it's with me, but since I'm the topic of discussion, she needs someone else. So you can tell her that you know I'm gay. Just tell her that I knew she'd want to talk to you about it, so I told you. That way she doesn't feel like she's betraying me."

"Okay…" Naomi drawls out, trying to fit the pieces together. "But  _do_  you want Rachel talking about this with me?" she questions.

"I honestly don't mind. I trust you not to say anything about how I feel. I just know that she probably wants to talk this out. She just found out her best friend is gay, and she seemed to be genuinely surprised by it. She contained it really well and focused on being there for me, but I could tell."

"Is that all this is about? Rachel having someone to talk to?"

An impatient taxi horn blares in her ear as she crosses the street. "Fuck you, I have the walk signal!" Naomi yells as she jogs across the crosswalk.

Quinn laughs, clearly amused by Naomi's pedestrian rage. "Sorry 'bout that," Naomi huffs as she brings her phone back up to her ear. "Yellow cars of  _death_ , those ones."

Quinn laughs again, but then nervously clears her throat to answer Naomi's question. "Umm...no. It's a bit more than that. Rachel is one the greatest friends a person could ask for. I'm sure you can see that. But  _because_  she cares about me so much, I know she wouldn't really voice her true feelings on this if those feelings were anything other than a neutral acceptance."

"You want me to find out what Rachel's real reaction to this is." She doesn't even voice it as a question. Clearly, this is what Quinn really wants from her, the reason why she called.

"Yeah," Quinn admits.

"I don't know…" Naomi replies hesitantly.

She steps trough the entrance of Gold Bar and sits down in one of the arm chairs, letting the aroma of coffee take over her senses. It's moderately crowded but not too bad, since the morning crowd is completely gone and it's too early for the late afternoon rush.

"Please, Naomi. How am I ever supposed to move forward with her if I don't even really know how she feels about me being gay?" Quinn asks, insecurity rising.

Naomi sighs and rests her head in her free hand, leaning against the arm rest of her chair. She wants to help Quinn, but she doesn't want to betray Rachel by revealing things behind her back to Quinn.

"Okay, how about this…" she compromises. "I'm not going to give you any details, Quinn. What Rachel chooses to tell me is Rachel's business. But I'll give you the absolute basics. Like how surprised she really is, if she's upset she didn't know earlier, if she sees you any differently now that she knows. But that's it. I won't give you any specifics about what she tells me, just enough so that you know how to approach talking to her more about this."

Quinn exhales in relief. "Thank you. That's all I'm asking for. I feel like I'm flying blind right now, because I have  _no_ idea how she really feels. I just need a general idea. That's it."

"You should invite her up to New Haven this weekend. I know she doesn't have any big exams on Monday, and I think it would really help both of you if you could talk in person."

"You're right, it probably would," Quinn agrees. "I'll give her a call later when we're both done with class and see if she wants to come up to visit."

"Sounds good. I'll text you if Rachel ends up talking to me once she knows I'm aware of everything. I'll let you know the bare minimum, and hopefully that should help you figure out how to approach talking to her this weekend. Even if she doesn't visit, I'm sure you'll want to talk soon. Though I'm pretty sure she'll be googling bus times tonight."

"Thank you. Seriously, you're the best roommate Rachel could have asked for and you've been nothing but kind to me. You have no I idea how much I appreciate it," Quinn tells her honestly.

"I love Rachel. Not like you love her, but I love her in the best platonic -eat vegan Thai food and visit art galleries and watch musicals- kind of way. How could I not help out someone who has such potential to be a great partner for her?"

The phone is quiet for a moment, and she's pretty sure that Quinn is blushing somewhere in Connecticut right now.

"Thanks," Quinn mumbles shyly. "I have to get going. I have another class in a little bit. I wanted to talk to you before you saw Rachel again though."

"No worries. We'll talk soon, Quinn."

"Okay. Bye, Naomi," Quinn says kindly before disconnecting the call.

She smiles and pockets her phone, pulling a few dollars out of her wallet to buy some coffee.

Quinn and Rachel might be complicated, but they're the kind of complicated that's worth fighting for.

She just hopes that she doesn't cause any unnecessary carnage in the process.

**XXxxXX**

Shortly after hanging up on Naomi, about ten minutes before her class is supposed to start, her phone starts to ring. A quick glance at the screen tells her that it's Jordan, and she smiles, hitting the accept call button.

"Hey Jordan! I've only got a few minutes to talk before class, but what's up?"

"Hi, Quinn," he says brightly. "I was just gonna leave you a voicemail. I didn't expect you to answer. I wanted to let you know that Pride is hosting a karaoke and talent show night right off campus this Saturday. It's a fun thing we do every couple of months at this wacky bar over on Highland. You don't have to be 21 to go. They just won't serve you alcohol. I thought it might be a fun time for you to meet some people in a more relaxed setting."

"That sounds like a lot of fun!"

It really does. Karaoke is usually hilarious, and these people seem fun even without obnoxious singing added to the mix. Then she remembers her plans that she intended to make for this weekend.

"It's going to depend on what my friend wants to do though. I'm pretty sure Rachel is coming up to visit this weekend."

"Rachel, huh?" Jordan asks with interest. "Would this happen to be the same Rachel who's keeping you off the market from all the women who've been eyeing you?"

"Shut up! There's no  _all_  women," she laughs, cheeks tinted pink.

"There's more women than you'd care to admit," he teases. "But really, is this  _the_  Rachel we're talking about here?"

"Yes," Quinn admits shyly.

"Oh, now you've  _got_  to come! I need to meet this girl that's got you so hung up."

"We'll see," Quinn muses, noncommittal. "Though anyone who knows her would tell you that as soon as she hears the words 'microphone' and 'audience', she'll be there."

Jordan laughs. "Ask her about it. I think you girls would have a lot of fun. And I'd love to meet her. I'll let you get you class now, but I'll text you soon about the details for this weekend. And don't forget we've still got group meeting on Sunday."

"Yeah, I know. Talk to you soon, Jordan." She smiles and hangs up her phone, entering her classroom building.

Her and Rachel in a room full of LGBT people plus karaoke.

Even if she tried, she couldn't have come up with a more perfect and hilarious way to introduce Rachel to her new life at Yale.

**XXxxXX**

As her intro acting professor concludes his lecture, she gathers her things to leave.

"Hey, I forgot to ask you on Monday- did you end up coming to the show last Friday?" her classmate Heejin asks while she packs up her laptop.

"I did! My roommate and I went together. You guys were absolutely hilarious. We were actually crying tears of laughter at a couple points," Rachel tells her, standing up and walking towards the exit with Heejin.

"Awesome! I'm glad you had fun. Feel free to stop by and say hi next time. I know the number of people there can make it kind of hard, but you're always welcome to come up after. I could introduce you to the other actors too if you want. You never know who's going to end up a famous comedian," she jokes. Except with those group of top students, she isn't entirely kidding.

"With that group of people, I'd say you're right. Your entire group is  _so_  talented."

"Thanks! Well I've gotta get to a meeting. I'll see you in class Friday, Rachel!" Heejin says in farewell, getting lost in the throng of students as she heads in the opposite direction of the hallway.

Rachel is barely out the door of the building when her phone starts to ring. There's really only a couple of people who know her schedule this well, and sure enough Quinn's face is the one illuminating her phone as she pulls it out of her coat pocket.

"Hi there!" Rachel answers, already smiling.

"Hey, Rach! How are you? How's your day going?"

Quinn seems to be back to her usual self, a very different Quinn than the one she talked with on skype last night.

"I'm good. It's been a pretty uneventful day so far. Just the usual school stuff. How about you?"

"I'm having a good day. Much better than last night, that's for sure. You have no idea how much of a relief it is that you know now, Rachel," Quinn admits.

It's true. Even though she's frustrated by how little of a reaction she got from Rachel on skype, it's still such a relief that this is finally out in the open. It might not be the whole truth behind Quinn's actions lately, but it's certainly a big step forward.

"I'm relieved  _for_  you, Quinn. Things will be so much better now. It got awkward between us there for a while, but I understand now that you were dealing with a lot. Hopefully now we can get back to how things were at the beginning of the school year."

Quinn doubts that that could ever really happen. Too much has transpired since then. But she understands the sentiment behind Rachel's words. Rachel wants them to be close again, without all this other stuff interfering. If only she could understand just how complicated things still are.

But just because things are complicated, that doesn't mean that she's not going to try to make things better for them. That's part of the reason why she came out to Rachel in the first place. The tension and awkwardness caused by her reluctance about everything became unbearable, and she  _misses_  how things used to be with Rachel. She misses how things were before she slept with that girl and was forced to deal with all the shit she'd been pushing away.

Even though she was harboring hidden feelings for Rachel back then, at least she was still able to enjoy her friendship. Quinn wants to get back to that. She  _needs_  to get back to that if she has any hope of them becoming something more.

"Yeah, I know. That's one of the reasons why I'm calling you. I'm not sure what your schedule looks like, but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come up to New Haven this weekend."

Rachel can't help the small squeal of excitement that escapes her mouth as she walks back to her dorm. She quickly stifles it, and instead voices an excited, "Really?"

"What, don't act so surprised! I miss you, and I'd really like to see you. Especially after everything that's happened recently."

A huge smile spreads across Rachel's face as she realizes that she might actually get to spend time with Quinn this weekend.

"I've been wanting to come visit for a while," Rachel admits. "But with how everything's been lately, I didn't want to intrude and invite myself."

"Well consider yourself invited," Quinn tells her. "So what do say? Do you think you can make it up here this weekend?"

Rachel thinks for a moment, re-checking her schedule in her head to make sure that she's not forgetting about anything going on this weekend.

"Aside from normal homework, my schedule is clear. So yes!" Rachel exclaims, voice bubbling over with excitement.

"Awesome! Oh my gosh, I'm so excited to show you Yale. And you can meet some of my new friends!" Quinn says with obvious happiness in her voice.

"New friends?" Rachel asks her curiously. They talk pretty frequently, but Quinn hasn't mentioned any new people that she would consider real friends. She just assumed that Quinn was still trying to find her footing in her new home, and was still working to meet people.

"Yeah. There's, uh, some things about my life here that I haven't really shared with you yet. But don't worry, because I'm going to tell you all about it when you get here this weekend!"

Rachel wonders what else Quinn has been keeping from her, but decides to let it slide since she knows that she'll be with Quinn in person soon.

"I'm going to make my bus reservations as soon as I get back to my room. I'll text you my predicted arrival time once I know."

"Perfect. Uh, there's one other thing I wanted to tell you, Rach," Quinn says with slight hesitance.

"What is it?" Rachel asks, approaching the front entrance of her dorm.

"I called Naomi this morning." Rachel does a mental double-take, trying to discern if she heard Quinn properly.

"How come?"

"There's a couple things I wanted to tell her. She'll talk to you about it later, but I wanted to let you know that I did call her."

"Okay…" Rachel replies, completely confused. She waits for a further explanation that never comes.

"Trust me, it will make sense later," Quinn reassures her.

"If you say so," she concedes, digging through her backpack for her keycard until someone happens to exit the dorm and hold the door open for her.

Rachel mouths a quick thank you to the kind person and makes her way over to their elevator.

"Wait- did you ask your roommate about me visiting this weekend?" Rachel suddenly realizes. "Is she okay with it? I know you guys hardly talk."

"Yeah, I called her right before I called you. She's actually going to her cousin's wedding in Rhode Island this weekend, so it works out well. I don't think she would have cared even if she was in town though."

"Darn. I was hoping to meet this mystery roommate. I'm starting to doubt that she even exists," Rachel jokes.

"Oh, trust me, she exists. Jessica is nice. But she's taking nineteen credit hours, which, for a freshman at Yale, is kind of insane. She's also involved in a lot of other academic stuff on campus. We don't hang out at all really, but she's always nice when she's around."

When Rachel reaches the sixth floor where her room is located, she fishes her keys out of her pocket as she approaches her door.

"Well, I'm gonna get going now. I think Naomi's home. She's usually back from Gold Bar by now."

Rachel slides the key into the lock and gently kicks the door open since her hands are totally full.

Naomi is sitting on her bed, laptop in her lap and headphones draped over her ears. She looks up from the screen when Rachel walks in the door and pulls her headphones down to hang around her neck.

"Yeah, Q, Naomi's here," Rachel confirms.

"Hi Quinn!" Naomi yells obnoxiously when she finds out that Quinn is the one on the phone with her.

Quinn's laughter comes to her ear through the speaker, so clearly she heard Naomi's yell.

"Okay, I'll talk to you soon, Rach. And tell Naomi I said hi."

Rachel smiles and tosses her backpack down next to her desk. "I will. Bye, Quinn."

She sets her phone down on her desk after Quinn ends the call and shrugs her jacket off, draping it across the back of her chair.

"Quinn says hi back," she tells her roommate with a laugh.

"Did she tell you she called me earlier today?" Naomi asks.

"She did actually," Rachel tells her as she relaxes into her chair. "She didn't say why though. She just said you would tell me."

Naomi nods and reaches up to set her laptop back on her desk, then rests her back against the wall so that she's sitting to face Rachel.

"She told me what happened last night. That she came out to you."

Rachel opens her mouth in surprise. "I…but-" she fumbles, trying to figure out why on earth Quinn felt the need to tell her roommate this.

"It wasn't a big deal. I think she's out to more people than you might assume, Rachel. Telling you was probably a lot harder then telling people who don't know her that well. I think some people at Yale know," Naomi explains.

She thinks she might detect the slightest trace of hurt on Rachel's face, but more than anything she just looks confused.

"But why did she call you to tell you? No offense, but you hardly know each other."

Naomi smiles lightly, resting her head back against the wall and playing with a loose thread on her comforter.

"You're right. We barely know each other. But she knows you crazy well. She knows you've probably been thinking about this ever since she told you last night. And considering how you kept tossing and turning last night, it sounds like she's right. She thought you might want to talk about this with someone other than her, but she knew you would never want to betray her by talking about her sexuality without her permission."

Rachel closes her eyes for a second, smiling and shaking her head lightly. It really is unbelievable how well Quinn understands her. She  _has_ been thinking about this ever since Quinn told her, but she knew she couldn't say anything. At least, she  _thought_  she couldn't say anything. Now that she knows she has Quinn's blessing to talk to Naomi about this, it feels like a weight has been lifted from her.

"Thank god," Rachel sighs in relief.

Naomi smiles and quirks her eyebrow. "Lots on your mind?"

"Quinn is gay," Rachel states, thinking out loud more than anything else really. "Quinn Fabray is  _gay_. Gay! Like, my best friend who used to parade in front of boys in that damn cheerleading skirt, is a lesbian."

"Surprised?" Naomi asks in amusement.

"Ye-ah!" Rachel exclaims, looking at her roommate as if this is the most obvious thing ever. "How could I not be surprised? It's  _Quinn_. I just assumed everything that's been going on was about Beth or some other big thing that she has trouble talking about. I didn't know she was gonna  _come out_  to me!"

"What about it is so surprising?" Naomi asks her neutrally.

"You don't get it, because you don't know her history. It's  _Quinn_ , Naomi. Boys and popularity were her two biggest priorities for most of high school. No even knew she was secretly an academic because status symbol stuff was all she ever talked about. She had every boy at that school wrapped around her finger, and she terrorized me throughout sophomore year because she thought I was after her boyfriend. Which, I mean, I kind of  _was_ , but that's not the point."

Rachel lets her thoughts on all of this spew out, after keeping them contained for almost twenty four hours.

"But did she ever really love any of them?" her roommate questions her.

Rachel pauses, thinking about this question that she had never really considered.

_Had_  Quinn been in love with any of her boyfriends?

She always kind of assumed that she was, because of how much Quinn used to fixate on them. But the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that Quinn's boyfriends were always more of a status symbol than anything else.

"I actually don't know," Rachel states in realization.

Suddenly Quinn's ability to remain devoid of sexual temptation with her boyfriends makes complete sense. Puck doesn't count because Quinn was drunk and insecure, and she even admitted to Rachel that she didn't enjoy sleeping with him.

"I'm just wondering why she waited so long to tell me. I understand how this would have been really hard for her to come to terms with, given how she was raised. But I would have understood and accepted her more than just about anyone. I guess telling Santana makes sense, but how long has she kept this hidden from me?"

"Did you ask her that?"

"Kind of. I asked her how long she's known. She didn't say. She made it seem like it's been a while though."

Naomi watches Rachel intently, trying to figure out how she really feels.

"Rachel…" Naomi begins hesitantly, "are you upset that she's been hiding this from you for so long?"

Rachel ducks her head, letting her hair conceal part of her face as she grasps her hands together in her lap.

"Would it make it me a bad person if I said yes?" Rachel asks quietly, voice already laced with guilt.

"No, it wouldn't," Naomi answers her kindly. "But I'm curious why you're upset. You know that Quinn loves you. I really doubt she kept this a secret from you because of a lack of trust. Coming out is a hard process, Rachel, and everyone handles it in different ways."

"I know. I know that. But she's also my best friend and I just…" Rachel trails off, not even sure how to voice what the real issue is.

Naomi watches her, and thinks about what Rachel has told her about high school. From what it sounds like, Rachel has never had a lot of close friends. Quinn seems to be one of the first real ones. That's when she realizes she might know what the problem is here.

"Close friends are allowed to keep things from each other, Rachel. In fact, it's probably healthy to not share  _everything_. It doesn't diminish the friendship. You know that right?"

Rachel is silent, and that's what gives Naomi the answer.

"It's not always like the movies, where best friends tell each other absolutely everything. It  _can_  be like that, but it doesn't have to be. It doesn't make your friendship with Quinn any less important, Rachel."

Rachel wipes a couple of stray tears from the corner of her eye, embarrassment and insecurity getting the best of her.

"I feel like an idiot," Rachel admits softly. "I've just never really had close friends like this before. Sometimes I'm still waiting for the day when Quinn realizes I'm not worth it and moves on."

"I  _highly_  doubt that will ever happen," Naomi emphasizes.

_If only you knew just how tied to you Quinn really is,_  she thinks.

"Look, Rachel, I get that you're confused and kind of hurt that Quinn has kept this from you for so long. Especially when it's clearly been playing a big role in her life lately. The important thing is that now you  _do_  know. And you know Quinn in ways that most people don't, which means you can help her through this ways that a lot of people probably can't. Don't worry about why she chose to come out to you when she did. Just focus on being there for her  _now_."

Rachel looks at her with determination and nods her head in agreement. "You're right. You're absolutely right. Ugh, I'm so glad I get to visit her this weekend so we can actually talk in person about this."

"Yeah, I'm sure that will help," Naomi agrees.

Rachel opens up her laptop and clicks to the Peter Pan bus schedule online to book her ticket for Friday. As soon as Rachel is distracted looking through the departure times, Naomi pulls out her phone.

_You completely surprised her yesterday. And she's kind of hurt that you waited so long to tell her, though she's doing better about that now that we've talked about it._

She quickly types out the text and sends it to Quinn before reopening her laptop as well. A couple of minutes later, a simple brief reply beeps onto her phone.

_**Thank you.**_

Naomi wasn't expecting much else of an answer for Quinn.

She only hopes that Quinn now has enough confidence to fully talk this out with Rachel this weekend.


	16. Chapter 16

Rachel didn't realize just how much she had grown accustomed to her urban environment until she was able to stare out the window at trees flashing by for a solid two hours. She may not be like Naomi, getting homesick for anything remotely resembling nature, but that doesn't mean that she can't appreciate the open spaces and the fresh air.

She's finally on the local New Haven bus on her way to Yale, after impatiently enduring the trek from New York City to the bus terminal here. She has her ipod with her and some homework that she could be working her way through, but she's too anxious about finally seeing Quinn to really accomplish anything.

It's been less than a month since they last saw each other, but it feels like so much more than that. Distance from Quinn is always hard, but lately it's been unbearable. Their relationship has been through quite a bit in the recent weeks, and Quinn coming out to her was the tipping point. After that, she  _had_  to see her in person. If Quinn hadn't invited her up here soon, there's a fair chance she might have boarded a bus here anyway.

There's only so much emotional turmoil that she can deal with in their relationship before she just needs to have her arms wrapped around Quinn. Rachel has always been incredibly compassionate towards the people that she cares about, but something about Quinn has always gotten to her.

Even when Quinn was nothing but horrific to her, news of Quinn's pregnancy leaked and all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around the girl. There's just something about Quinn in distress that she can't help but respond to, regardless of how little Quinn might have deserved her kindness in the past.

Maybe that's her fatal flaw, that she somehow manages to have overwhelming compassion even for the people that screw her over, but it's a part of who she is.

And ever since her and Quinn became close friends, that compassion hasn't wavered. If anything, it's grown even more as they've gotten to know each other better.

That's why, when her bus finally reaches her stop on the east end of Yale's campus, she practically jumps out of her seat.

The wind and cold air whip across her face as she exits the bus and takes in her surroundings. She triple checked the bus stop to makes sure she got off at the right place, but Quinn isn't here yet and she has no idea where here  _is_.

She shivers as a blast of cold air races against the back of her neck and she pulls out her phone to call Quinn.

It rings for a few seconds and then Quinn's voice, hurried and out of breath, comes through.

"I'm so sorry, Rach! I was doing homework so that I wouldn't have to worry about it as much this weekend and lost track of time. I'm like five minutes away from the bus stop, I promise."

Rachel rubs at her wrist with her free hand, trying to generate warmth where her arm is exposed as she holds the phone. "Don't worry, it's fine. Can you just tell me which general direction to walk in so I don't have to stand still? I've been on a heated bus for hours, so this wind is freezing. I don't think I brought a warm enough coat."

"Crap, yeah, I should have warned you that they're expecting a cold front this weekend. Umm, do you see that really tall gothic looking clock tower in the distance that's way on the other side of campus?"

Rachel glances around, spotting the landmark almost immediately. "Yes, I see it."

"Okay, walk along that sidewalk by the career services building near you. You should know which path I'm talking about if you're facing the tower."

"I see it. I'm gonna hang up on you now. Call me if you have trouble finding me," Rachel instructs her as she heads in what she hopes is the right direction.

She doesn't have to worry for long though, because Quinn is very clearly walking toward her as she rounds the corner of the building.

"Rachel!" Quinn calls out excitedly as she spots her coming around the corner.

Rachel's face lights up in a smile as she sees Quinn walking towards her in a grey wool coat and dark skinny jeans, black boots covering her calves.

She quickens her pace and lets her compact rolling suitcase fall to the ground as she leaps forward to wrap her arms around Quinn.

Quinn's warm laughter tickles across her cheek as she burrows against Quinn's warm coat and squeezes her arms tightly around her shoulders.

"Someone's excited," Quinn laughs into her ear, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist to support her as the smaller girl stands slightly elevated on her toes.

Rachel just hums in response, giving Quinn's shoulders a final squeeze before pulling back to look in her eyes.

"Hi!" She exclaims brightly, smile stretching widely across her face.

"Hi!" Quinn's hazel eyes meet hers, and she feels the joy and warmth of her gaze wash over her. "Did you get here alright? No problems with the buses?"

"Nope. The only problem was how long I had to wait before I got here," Rachel tells her, keeping her hands on Quinn's shoulders.

Quinn's hands are still lightly resting on her waist, and she sees Quinn's eyes tracing along her face before the hands on her waist tighten and Quinn pulls her forward again.

Her arms wrap tightly around Rachel's small frame, and she feels Quinn breathe against the shoulder of her coat.

"I'm so glad you're here." Quinn's warm voice flows over her. Blonde hair tickles at her neck, and she can feel Quinn smile against her shoulder.

"Me too," she breathes against Quinn's ear. "You have no idea how happy I am to be here."

When Quinn finally pulls back, she smiles widely at Rachel and pushes a few short strands of hair out of her face as the wind picks up.

"So this is Yale, huh?" Rachel looks around at the trees and buildings near her.

"This is Yale," Quinn smiles at her and watches Rachel take in her surroundings. "Ready to check it out? We'll stop by my dorm to drop off your stuff and then maybe we can go for a quick walk before the sun sets and it gets too cold."

"Okay," Rachel nods in agreement, eyes alight with excitement, and bends down to pick up her little suitcase.

"Hey, no, let me carry that for you," Quinn intercepts Rachel and moves to pick up the bag.

"You don't have to-" Rachel halfheartedly tries to protest but is cut off by Quinn.

"Oh, shush. I'm carrying it for you."

Rachel doesn't bother trying to protest after that, and instead links her arm in Quinn's as they walk together towards the main part of campus.

"This campus is beautiful. I've looked up pictures of it and stuff, but just being here is…wow." Rachel continues to turn her head to observe all of the buildings around her.

"I know. Even I'm still getting used to it. It's getting a little cold for it now, but in the past I've been doing my reading homework outside. It's kind of hard to make myself read in a library when I could be under one of these giant trees, you know?"

Quinn leads Rachel across the campus, arms linked, and points out various famous buildings as they make their way to Quinn's dorm.

About fifteen minutes later, Quinn comes to a stop in an open courtyard area. They're facing a large old building with ornate detailing wrapped around its stone architecture.

"Welcome to Branford," Quinn smiles and looks at Rachel to gauge her reaction.

"This is gorgeous! But…what exactly is Branford?"

Quinn laughs and nods her head in the direction of the building. "This is where I live, Rachel."

Rachel's mouth hangs open and she looks back and forth rapidly between the building and Quinn. "You're  _joking_."

"No, this is my dorm," Quinn replies in amusement. "There aren't usually freshman who live here, but Yale had one of its biggest incoming classes ever this year. So a few lucky freshman got put in these dorms because they ran out of room in the usual ones."

"But…but this can't be a dorm! It looks like something from eighteenth century Europe for heaven's sake!" Rachel stares at the building in disbelief.

"Welcome to Yale. Wait until you see the inside. You're gonna absolutely freak."

Quinn walks through a stone archway towards one of the entrances of the building and swipes her keycard. Even though the buildings are old, they've all been updated with modern security systems.

She holds the door open for Rachel, then steps aside to let her view the foyer in its entirety.

Rachel's eyes widen as she takes in the ornate detail and classic architecture, the wooden bookcases and comfortable furniture.

"Don't even bother coming back to New York. I'm visiting  _you_  from now on."

Quinn smiles and tugs at Rachel's jacket sleeve, leading her up the staircase.

"Home sweet home." Quinn slides her key into the door and sets Rachel's suitcase down in the corner.

"It feels like it." Quinn looks at her quizzically. "It just reminds me a lot of your room back in Lima. Obviously not your roommate's stuff. But all this," Rachel points at Quinn's posters and the items littering her desk, "this stuff is very you," she clarifies.

"Well what were you expecting?" Quinn teases lightly, sitting down on her bed.

"Pretty much this. It's nice to be around it again though. Comforting." Rachel makes her way over to Quinn's bed, sitting beside her and resting her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"Are you happy here? At Yale?" Rachel asks her softly, tracing her index finger along the pocket of Quinn's coat.

Quinn leans her head against the top of Rachel's, resting her cheek against soft brown hair. "Yeah. I really am."

**XXxxXX**

"Why is your dining hall so far from your dorm?" Rachel asks after they've been walking for a few minutes. Quinn had leant her one of her other coats, because the temperature was dropping rapidly now that the sun had set, and she wanted to make sure that Rachel would be warm enough while they walked.

"It's not. We have our own dining hall on the first floor of my building," Quinn informs her as they round another corner.

Rachel looks up at her in confusion, "Then where are we going? I thought we were going to eat."

"We are. I'm taking you out to dinner," Quinn explains, resting her hand across Rachel's lower back to guide her as they cross the street.

"Wait, what? You didn't tell me that! We don't need to go out to eat, Quinn. I'm fine with eating in the dining hall."

Quinn may be from a wealthier family, but Yale tuition costs a fortune and she knows that Quinn can't have a lot of money lying around to spend on going out to dinner.

"That's why I didn't tell you until now." Quinn smiles at her. "Don't worry about it, Rach. I'm doing this because I want to. You're here in New Haven, and I'm taking you out to dinner. We'll eat in the dining hall the rest of the weekend, but tonight we're celebrating."

"Okay." Rachel's lips quirk up into a smile at how sweet Quinn is being about her visit. "So where are we going?"

Quinn points to a street up ahead. "There's a cute little Italian place on the corner up there that I've been wanting to try. I see it every time I walk to Woodland." Quinn turns and points at a little coffee shop a little ways down a side street.

So that's where Quinn is at during all of those different times when they've been on the phone or skyping.

"Can you take me there sometime this weekend? I want to see your coffee place."

"Sure," Quinn agrees with a smile.

When they reach their restaurant, a host leads them to a little table in the corner and Quinn hangs up their coats on the hooks behind them.

A waiter comes over a couple of minutes later. "Good evening, ladies. How are we doing tonight?"

"Good, thanks," Quinn replies politely.

'What can I get you started to drink?"

"Just a water for me. How 'bout you, Rach?"

"Water with lemon, please," Rachel tells him.

He prepares to leave and get their drinks, when Quinn stops him.

"I called ahead earlier and asked if you offer any vegan entrees. The woman on the phone told me they would be marked on the menu. I was just wondering where we'd find them."

"Oh, of course," their waiter says professionally. He turns open Quinn's menu and points to a section on the side. "This entire list is all vegetarian options, and the few that are marked with a little plus sign are vegan as well. Let me know if you have any questions about anything."

"Thank you," Quinn tells him kindly as he leaves to attend to another table.

When Quinn looks up from her menu, Rachel is watching her with a small smile on her lips.

"You called ahead for me?"

"Well yeah," Quinn states as if this is totally obvious. "I needed to make sure they had stuff you could eat before I brought you here. I figured they would. There's a lot of people who are either vegetarian or vegan in this town."

"No one else aside from my parents has ever cared enough to do that for me," Rachel admits, looking at the section of her menu that their waiter had indicated.

"That's ridiculous." Quinn shakes her head.

"Maybe so, but it's the truth," Rachel says in response as she reads through her options.

Quinn takes a few minutes to look through the vegetarian portion of the menu. Italian food really does offer an impressive amount of meat-free dishes. It's one of those things that she's never considered much- that certain types of food are more easily accommodating for vegetarians and vegans.

Later on, when their food arrives and the waiter places Rachel's gnocchi with sundried tomato pesto on the table, she realizes that maybe there's a lot she has yet to realize about a vegan lifestyle. Because that dish doesn't look disgusting at all.

In fact, it looks pretty damn delicious.

Rachel seems to agree, if her reaction to eating her first of couple bites is any indication. "Oh my god, you have to try this, Quinn. Seriously, try some."

Rachel holds up her fork with another piece of food, and Quinn only hesitates for a moment before leaning forward and taking a bite. She's right- it's delicious. She's almost inclined to say that it's better than her penne vodka, though that's quite good as well.

The restaurant is still relatively casual, even though the food is high quality, which helps her to feel like she isn't inadvertently taking Rachel out on a date.

Even if that kind of  _is_  how it feels right now.

Rachel doesn't seem to think so though, and that's all that matters.

**XXxxXX**

Once they're back at Quinn's dorm, they change out of their winter clothing and into more comfortable pajamas. Quinn purposefully faces the other direction while Rachel changes, and tries to make it seem like that isn't what she's doing, but Rachel seems to catch on anyway.

"It's alright, Quinn," she says as she finishes pulling her t-shirt over her head. "Naomi's attracted to women and I change in front of her all the time. You don't have to turn around for my benefit."

Quinn turns back around and nods, cheeks tinted pink. Things just went from normal to awkward in less than a minute, because this is the first time that either of them has acknowledged Quinn's recent confession since Rachel got here.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," Quinn mutters awkwardly, tucking her arms around herself. She doesn't add the fact that her brain might short circuit if she has to watch Rachel get half naked.

Rachel smiles and shakes her head, stepping forward so that she's standing right in front of Quinn.

"I appreciate it, but it's not necessary. If I'm ever uncomfortable, I promise I'll let you know. Otherwise, don't change anything for me, Q. Okay?"

Rachel places her hand on Quinn's shoulder, waiting for her to look up and make eye contact. But Quinn keeps her head resolutely ducked towards the ground, embarrassment and self-consciousness suddenly overwhelming her. It was one thing for Rachel to know when they were separated by state borders. It's a whole different matter entirely when she's standing in the same room and they're both aware that she  _knows_.

She feels like there's some kind of hook tugging at her heart, when she sees how much Quinn is struggling in front of her.

"Quinn, honey, it's o _kay_ ," Rachel soothes against her ear, wrapping one arm around her waist and using her other hand to gently pull Quinn's head against her collarbone.

Quinn still has her arms wrapped around herself, and she feels the girl's elbows pushing lightly against her abdomen as she pulls her closer. She presses her forearm against Quinn's lower back as she holds her waist, while her other hand tangles in blonde hair at the back of her head, holding Quinn against her.

She holds Quinn in place like that, running her hand gently against her head. It takes a couple of minutes before she gets any response from Quinn.

Then she hears, "I'm sorry," whispered against her neck.

"For what?" Rachel asks gently, pulling Quinn against her as she tries to turn away.

"I don't know how to  _do_  this," Quinn breathes in frustration, pushing her head harder against Rachel's shoulder to hide her face. "I don't know what boundaries are suddenly in place now. I don't know what's okay with us versus what's gonna seem  _gay_  and I-"

She cuts herself off at that, unable to explain any further, and Rachel feels a couple of Quinn's hot tears against her neck.

"Shhh it's alright," Rachel whispers against her hair, clenching her arm tighter around Quinn's back. "I just want you to be yourself, Quinn. You don't have to censor who you are just because I know."

"But what if it gets weird between us?" Quinn asks, voice heavy with uncertainty.

"It'll only get weird and seem different if we  _let_  it get that way, Quinn. I'm not gonna let it, and I don't want you to either. I know this feels really big to you right now, but I promise it's not as awful as it seems. We're going to be just fine, Q."

Quinn pulls her head back to look at Rachel's eyes, and sees nothing but warmth and reassurance staring back at her.

"You swear?" Quinn asks quietly.

"I swear." Rachel gives her one last hug before pulling away. "I'm going to go use the restroom. So why don't you wipe those pretty eyes and just breathe for a few minutes, okay? And maybe we can watch a movie or something when I come back."

Quinn gives her a shaky smile and nods. "Okay."

When Rachel returns a few minutes later, her make-up has been washed from her face and her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. Now that they've talked this out a little bit and Quinn has admitted some of her fears, she feels a lot more relaxed in Rachel's presence.

"So how do feel about a movie?" Rachel asks as she sets her make-up bag back in her suitcase.

"I'm fine with that. I don't really know what we'd watch though, unless we look up something on Netflix. I didn't bring any movies with me to school."

"I actually brought something. Naomi's the one who suggested it- it's her DVD. She said she thinks you would really like it and that it would make you happy after everything that's happened recently."

"What movie is it?" Quinn asks curiously.

"It's called Imagine Me and You. Naomi wouldn't tell me what it's about. She just said it's like a romantic comedy but with a really good twist."

"Alright, why not? It's not like we really have anything else to watch. And if Naomi thinks I'd like it, then I might as well give it a try."

Rachel pulls the DVD out of her backpack, and Quinn gets it set up in her laptop on her bed. Once her and Rachel are snuggled back against the wall on her bed under the blankets, she clicks the play button.

It seems like pretty standard romantic comedy fare at first, and she lets herself get swept away in the Hollywood manufactured romance.

But then a few minutes later, there's a wedding and there's this florist, and  _woah what was that look about_?

The one character gets married, while the other one attends the after party. And yeah, even though she's not comfortable enough to say these things out loud, that florist woman is totally hot.

The part that solidifies it all though is when the florist, who she's managed to remember is named Luce, tells the two men that she's gay.

The husband says  _cool_  and that womanizing dude says  _well done_  and all she can do is drop her head against her knees and snort, "Oh geez…"

Rachel giggles at the men's reactions and then turns to look at Quinn.

"You okay?" she asks, poking her lightly in the ribs.

"Yeah. I should have known Naomi had something up her sleeve." Quinn shakes her head and smiles, turning her attention back to the screen.

This just got a lot more interesting.

An hour later, she's cursing at Naomi in her head. Because there's a Luce (which is far too close to sounding like Lucy for her liking) who is in love with a Rachel, and the mom is saying "But does she love you?" and Luce is saying that it doesn't matter and then the mom is replying "Oh, it's all that matters."

She's cursing at Naomi, and biting her lip roughly to contain herself so that her best friend leaning against her won't be made aware of just how much this is getting to her. Because  _she_  has a Rachel, but  _her_  Rachel has absolutely no idea. And she just wants to do that stupid stuff like go to soccer games (they could totally cheer on Jordan), and play Dance Dance Revolution, and kiss her senseless in the back of some shop.

But she's not some florist in the UK with an epic lesbian fairytale. She's Yale student Quinn Fabray who has hopelessly fallen for her best friend.

She's realizing that even though this is a story about two women, it's still a romantic comedy that makes her wish for a perfect resolution in her own life.

And that just really sucks.

When those blessed credits finally roll after the two women kiss on that road packed with cars, Rachel clicks the pause button and turns to look at her.

"Okay, I totally loved that. What'd you think?" Rachel asks, closing Quinn's laptop and placing in back on her desk before returning to the bed.

Quinn clears her throat and snaps herself out of her thoughts. "I really liked it! I thought it was good."

She smiles to reassure Rachel and then lays back against her pillow. Rachel climbs into bed next to her without a moment's hesitation and rests her head on Quinn's pillow, their faces just a few inches apart.

"You know what I think?" Rachel asks her with a smile.

Quinn stares back into captivating brown irises and tries to stay focused. "Hmm?"

"I think you're gonna find a girl. And she's gonna be awesome and totally beautiful, and you won't be so worried about who you love because you'll be happy."

Quinn's heart clenches painfully at Rachel's attempt to be encouraging, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before reopening them to look back at her.

How is she supposed to respond to that?

She waits for some stroke of inspiration on how to answer Rachel, but nothing seems to come to her.

"If you say so," she eventually mumbles.

"I'm serious! You just have to know where to meet people. Have you considered seeking out the lgbt group on campus? I'm sure Yale has one," she encourages.

Quinn blushes and glances away for a second before hesitantly looking Rachel in the eye again. "I actually already joined."

Rachel's eyes widen in surprise.

"A couple of weeks ago I started going to their meetings. Remember when I said I had new friends? They're from Pride."

Rachel face lights up in excitement. "You did? Oh my gosh, I'm so proud of you Quinn! That's awesome!"

Quinn smiles shyly and nods. "I got invited to an event tomorrow night. I was thinking maybe you could come and meet some of my friends and we could hang out there."

"Of course!' Rachel agrees brightly. "I would love to. What kind of event is it?"

Quinn pauses for a moment, grinning at her. "It's a karaoke night."

Rachel's answering squeal of excitement confirms her plans for tomorrow night.

All Quinn can think is-

Jordan is going to be thrilled.


	17. Chapter 17

"You said the karaoke thing was tonight, right?"

Rachel takes another bite of her fruit salad, while Quinn adds more syrup to her French toast.

"Yeah, it's at seven."

It's still kind of early for a Saturday morning, a little before nine, so the dining hall isn't very crowded yet.

"Was there anything else you wanted to do today, or are we just gonna chill and hang out?" Rachel asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Well I was thinking…" Quinn begins slowly. "This is just an idea, and it's okay if you think it's totally lame, but I've heard the university art gallery here is really cool. Supposedly they have one of the best art collections of any university in the nation. I thought maybe we could go check it out. It sounds like they have some neat stuff. Then we could go hang out at one of the parks or something later, if it's not too cold. Or we could just come back to Branford. Either way."

"You want to go to an art museum?" Rachel questions, smiling at her.

Quinn blushes and diverts her gaze, twirling her fork through puddles of syrup on her plate.

"You're right, it's totally lame. I'm sorry. Umm…." She tapers off, trying to think of an alternative plan for the day.

Rachel puts her hand on Quinn's wrist, and taps her lightly. "I was just teasing, Q. You forget that there are still things I don't know about you. You hid so much of yourself in high school that I love finding out about these secret interests of yours. I didn't know art was one of them."

Quinn chews on her lip self-consciously and nods her head. "Do you remember our first day in New York when we went to nationals junior year?"

"You mean when Mr. Shuester left us unsupervised and everyone just went running around the city?" Rachel huffs, still disappointed at how unprepared both their team and Mr. Shue were for that competition. No one took anything seriously enough.

Quinn laughs lightly at Rachel's obvious disapproval. "Yeah. Well, when everyone split off into pairs or small groups to go explore, I don't think anyone noticed that I went by myself."

Rachel frowns. "I thought you were with Santana and Brittany."

"Nope. I went by myself and took the subway to the Museum of Modern Art."

"You went to MOMA?" she asks in surprise.

"I did. And it was my favorite part of that whole disaster of a trip."

"I had no idea."

"No one did." Quinn smiles. "But yeah, I like art. It's okay if you don't want to go to the gallery though. I live here. I can go whenever I want. It was just an idea. Plus, it's free. But if there's something else you'd like to do…"

"No, let's go to the gallery. I want to check it out with you."

"Are you sure? Because we really can do something else if you want." Quinn looks at Rachel closely, trying to discern if Rachel is just agreeing to this for her benefit, or if she's actually interested.

"I'm sure." Quinn eyes her skeptically. "I promise!" Rachel laughs when Quinn continues to arch her eyebrow at her. "I want to look at art that makes no sense to me and hear your philosophical interpretations of it."

Quinn pouts. "Rachel Berry, are you making fun of me?"

"Only a little," Rachel says with a friendly wink as she stands up to put her tray away. Quinn huffs and rolls her eyes, following Rachel to discard the remains of her French toast.

Once Rachel is properly bundled up in her scarf and coat, they step outside into the courtyard together.

"Lead the way, Fabray!" she proclaims with a teasing smile, waiting for Quinn to chastise her lame rhyming.

Quinn just rolls her eyes and pulls Rachel by her jacket sleeve towards the right walkway.

She may be more mature and mellowed out, but she's definitely still Rachel Berry.

**XXxxXX**

"This doesn't make any sense."

Rachel tilts her head to try to look at the painting from a different angle, but no further explanation jumps out at her.

Quinn pulls herself out of her thoughts, turning to look at Rachel who has her head adorably slanted sideways.

"It's art. It's not always supposed to have an obvious message. In fact, most of the time it doesn't," Quinn claims, looking at the painting that Rachel is focused on.

"But if the point of art is to convey a thought or idea or emotion, wouldn't they want the message to be more clear?"

"Not necessarily. A lot of artists aren't creating to explain- they're creating to express. And people translate that expression in different ways."

Rachel looks over at Quinn, who has moved to stand next to her, and back to the painting.

"How it enjoyable to create art if no one understands it properly?"

Quinn keeps her focus on the painting for a moment, then turns to make eye contact with Rachel.

"Do you still enjoy singing when there's no audience to hear you?"

Rachel's eyes widen just a fraction in understanding, and Quinn smiles at her before turning her head back towards the piece of art on the wall.

"I think this is my favorite one so far in this part of the gallery. The way the colors clash- it's chaotic in the best way."

Rachel nods as she stares at the large six foot by four foot piece of art. "I have no idea what it means, but I think it's really cool."

Quinn lightly grabs Rachel's hand and leads her back towards the main hallway.

"Okay, enough with the modern art. Let's go look at the impressionist and post-impressionist stuff. The subjects in those paintings will  _make more sense_ ," she teasingly throws Rachel's words back at her.

She swats at Quinn's arm in response, but follows her to another part of the gallery.

A few minutes later, Rachel is standing in front of an exquisite piece, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch it.

"This is gorgeous," she breathes.

Quinn steps up behind her and takes in the painting.

"I love Degas. The way he paints dancers- it's just stunning."

"Yeah," Rachel voices softly in agreement, keeping her eyes focused on the work of art in front of her. "I like this stuff better than the modern art," she admits, resting her head against the outer part of Quinn's shoulder.

She glances down at the top of Rachel's head, then turns her focus back to the Degas painting.

"I thought you would. It's okay. Everyone has their own preferences in style- different eras of art or particular artists that they prefer."

Rachel hums in agreement and steps away from Quinn, moving towards another part of the room. She stares at a smaller work by Manet for a moment, before looking back at Quinn.

"Speaking of preferences- do you have a type?" Rachel asks curiously.

"In art?" Quinn looks at her in confusion.

Rachel smiles and shakes her head.

"No, in women."

Quinn freezes and blinks at her in surprise. "Where did  _that_  come from?" she laughs nervously.

"Well, we're talking about preferences in things and it made me wonder. We haven't really talked about it, because this is all still new to me. But friends talk about this kind of stuff all the time. I always thought you were into the muscular athletic  _male_  type, but clearly you're not." Rachel smiles playfully. "So I'm wondering if you  _do_  have a type..."

"Umm…" Quinn hums in awkwardness, avoiding eye contact by focusing on another painting.

"Don't be shy, Q. It's okay! I wanna know! Blonde or brunette? More feminine or less feminine? What's your  _dreeaammm_  girl look like?" Rachel drags out the word dream, teasing Quinn in a sing-song voice on the last question.

"I don't…I'm…"

How does she answer this without just saying _you_?

"Oh, sorry," Rachel mumbles when she sees Quinn freeze. "I understand if you're not comfortable telling me…"

Rachel looks slightly disappointed, even if she won't admit it, which is just  _totally_  unfair. She understands that Rachel is trying to reach out to her, to be supportive and show that she really is fully accepting of Quinn's sexuality.

It's just that she asks the most unfortunate questions.

"No, Rach…I umm… dark hair. I like girls with dark hair," she eventually stumbles out. "Though I would never rule out someone on the basis on hair color. But just in terms of surface level attraction, I prefer dark hair."

Rachel smiles in relief, glad that she didn't alienate Quinn by accidentally bringing up an uncomfortable topic.

"What else?"

Quinn considers her answers carefully, walking a thin line. This topic of conversation is way too close for comfort and she needs to be tactful in her answers.

"Pretty eyes. People say so much with their eyes."

"So like, blue or green eyes, you mean?" Rachel asks in clarification.

"No. It's not about color, though more colorful eyes can definitely be beautiful. It's about expressiveness," Quinn explains softly.

Rachel looks at Quinn speaking in a faraway tone, almost as if she is envisioning this in her head as she tries to explain it to Rachel.

Quinn remains quiet after that, focusing instead on the artwork surrounding her.

"Well, you're beautiful, Quinn. So whatever type of girl you do end up with will be lucky to have you," Rachel says kindly and with confidence.

Quinn's never been more thankful for the ten feet of distance separating her and Rachel, and the fact that she's currently facing the wall instead of the room.

She clenches her eyes shut and shoves her fists against the deep fabric of her coat pockets.

_You're beautiful, Quinn_.

It plays over and over again in a torturous loop in her brain, refusing to leave her be. She blinks rapidly to ward off the tears that are stinging at her eyes and threatening to escape.

She knows that Rachel means well, but that's the hardest part-

She's just saying it because she means well.

**XXxxXX**

They end up spending a little over two hours at the art gallery before leaving. By the time they walk out the front door, Quinn has managed to put the discomfort of Rachel's question behind her. She contained her outward response well, and thankfully Rachel didn't catch on to her subtle temporary shift in mood.

After that, they spend the rest of the day exploring campus and the nearby parts of New Haven. It turns out that there's lots of cute shops around campus that Quinn wasn't even aware of, because the main reason she ever walks off campus is to go to Woodland.

They don't really buy anything in the shops, because they don't exactly have money to be spending frivolously, but it's still fun to look around.

By six thirty they are finishing up their dinner back at the dining hall, and Quinn's phone is ringing. She moves to put it on silent, until she notices that Jordan is calling.

"Sorry Rach, just a sec…Hey, Jordan!" Quinn greets him.

"Hey, I just wanted to see if you were still planning on coming tonight."

"Yeah, we're gonna start walking over in just a few minutes."

" _We_? So you  _are_  bringing Rachel tonight!"

"I am."

"Dude, I can't wait to meet her! I still don't even know what she looks like! Tonight's gonna be fun," Jordan tells her enthusiastically.

"You better not say a word about it tonight though, Jordan," Quinn warns her.

Rachel eyes her curiously.

"What-" he starts.

"Don't even. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I know, Quinn. Relax. I'm not gonna say anything. But I can't be held accountable for other people who may pick up on your guys' chemistry. Assuming there  _is_  chemistry."

"Shut up," Quinn whines. "I'll see you soon."

Jordan just laughs. "Sounds good. Bye, Quinn."

"What was that about?" Rachel asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Don't worry about it. Nothing big," Quinn shrugs off her question. Rachel seems to accept her dismissal, and they gather their things to leave.

"You don't have to actually be a member of Yale's Pride group to sing tonight right…?" Rachel asks with worry as they exit Branford.

Quinn laughs and shakes her head. "I think you'll be fine, Rachel."

**XXxxXX**

Jordan spots them almost immediately after they enter. The karaoke and hang out night is being held at this cute bar place called Nico's. There's a small stage that's normally reserved for local musicians to play sets, but serves as the karaoke stage for the evening.

There's a great turnout. About forty or fifty people seem to be from Pride, and there are other regular customers packed into the cozy bar as well.

"Quinn!" Jordan stands up from a small table where he's got a couple empty seats saved and walks over to greet her. He gives her a friendly hug as soon as he is close enough and squeezes her shoulder as he steps back. "I'm so glad you made it!"

"What, did you think I was gonna bail in the next thirty minutes or something?," Quinn laughs.

Jordan grins in response and turns to look at Rachel, who is standing slightly to the side and watching the exchange with a small smile on her lips.

"And you must be Rachel. I'm Jordan." He extends his hand for Rachel to shake, and she accepts the offer. "It's so great to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," Rachel responds politely.

"C'mon I saved you guys a couple seats." He kindly ushers Rachel towards the table.

As soon as Rachel is a couple steps ahead and has her back turned, Jordan turns to face Quinn, inclines his head towards Rachel, and mouths, " _Day-um_."

Quinn scrunches her eyebrows and mouths " _Stop it!_ ", even though she silently agrees.

Rachel had spent the earlier part of the day in jeans and a simple coat, but decided to change for tonight. She's pretty sure it's because Rachel wants to make a good impression on Quinn's new friends, but whatever the reason is, she's not complaining.

Rachel is wearing thick black tights that mold to the contours of her legs, and she has a short maroon dress on that shimmers slightly in the light. The sleeves hang loosely and extend just past her elbows, while the neckline swoops just low enough to catch someone's attention. Her hair is hanging is soft loose curls, and small earrings dangle from her ears.

Now that Rachel has removed her coat, Quinn is struck by her outfit all over again.  _Dayum_  just about sums it up.

"Can I get you guys something to drink? I'll probably have to wait until the lights dim and the karaoke starts before I can sneak you alcohol, but can I interest you in a soda for now?" he asks with a wide smile.

Quinn laughs at Rachel's obvious disapproval of sneaking alcohol in a bar and turns to Jordan, "Rachel is a compulsive rule follower. But I'll have a diet coke…for now," Quinn says with an exaggerated wink just to rile up Rachel. "What about you, Rach? Sprite?"

Rachel pouts at Quinn before looking to Jordan. "Yes, please."

Jordan walks over to the bar, and Quinn eyes her best friend with amusement.

"You're in college, Rach. Underage drinking is bound to happen eventually. It's easier to just embrace it."

"What if I get  _caught_? Did you know that according to state law, your body is considered a container? So even if you aren't carrying alcohol with you, you can still be cited as a minor in possession if you are visibly intoxicated," Rachel rants.

"But what lovely containers we'd be…"

"Quinn!" Rachel huffs before folding her arms across herself and giving Quinn an exaggerated pout.

"I get it, Rach. I'm just giving you a hard time. You know I couldn't care less if you want to drink Sprite all night." Quinn nudges her and smiles, forcing Rachel to break the fake pout on her face. "And I don't want to get drunk anyway. I want to enjoy time with you and remember it. But I might have a beer later, just so you know."

Rachel starts to respond when Jordan returns to the table with two sodas in hand. "Here you go, ladies." He sets their drinks in front of them while sitting back in his seat.

"Hey, Quinn, just a heads up- Hayden is probably gonna come looking for you at some point. There's less than two weeks now until the show and they're still short of models. He's dead set on getting you to participate in the show, and I don't exactly blame him. But just so you know, because I know he's here tonight and he'll probably come find you at some point."

Quinn groans and drops her forehead into the palm of her hand. She'd completely forgotten about that. Actually, it was probably more selective memory than anything else. But whatever.

"Q, what's he talking about?" Rachel asks and pushes lightly at her shoulder, making Quinn look up.

"You haven't told her?" Jordan looks surprised.

"No, I haven't," Quinn huffs at him, then turns to Rachel. "Pride is hosting a huge fundraiser event in a couple weeks. They do something different every year, and they're expecting like five hundred people to be in attendance. They're doing a fashion show this year, and a few people want me to model for the show."

"They want you to model in a  _fashion show_? Quinn, that's so cool! Why don't you want to?"

"Aside from the fact that I think walking on a runway would freak me out, it's a gender-bender show."

"What?" Rachel asks in confusion.

"They want her to model clothes that tend to be worn more by men," Jordan explains with a grin, while Quinn blushes. "Semi-formal men's wear, to be precise."

Rachel arches her eyebrow as a smile slowly spreads across her face. "Now  _that_  I would pay money to see."

"What?" Now it's Quinn's turn to be confused.

"Quinn Fabray, wearer of everything girly and feminine, walking on the runway in men's wear? That's too great to pass up. I'm sure I'm not the only one who agrees. Santana would probably pay me to record it on camera."

"You  _wouldn't_." Quinn looks at her in horror.

Rachel's only response is to smile even wider.

**XXxxX**

A few people come by their table, while others take turns singing on stage, and soon they're all having a good time. The lights are dimmed now, and semi-intoxicated students are belting off-key notes into microphones under the spotlight.

After enduring a full rendition of Behind These Hazel Eyes in cringe-worthy off-key harmony, Rachel leans toward Quinn over the noise.

"I think it's our time, Q."

"What are you talking about?"

"You and me. It's time to sing." Jordan's eyes light up at this, and he voices his agreement.

"You first," Quinn replies.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not singing up there with you unless you do a solo first."

"What? Why not?" Rachel questions with a pout.

"Because I miss your singing voice. And it would be criminal of me to deprive this crowd of a Rachel Berry solo."

Rachel continues to frown at her, trying to coerce her into singing.

"That's the deal. You sing first or we don't duet." She knows that Rachel will give in. It's not like she doesn't love performing for an audience.

"Fine," she huffs. "You better sing with me in a little while though."

"I promise." Quinn smiles, and Rachel leaves the table to go look through the song options and volunteer to sing.

"So Rachel can sing?" Jordan asks lightly, speaking for the first time since her and Rachel started bantering.

Quinn looks at him in surprise, realizing that Jordan has absolutely no idea. Why would he? She's never told him about Rachel's singing, and none of these other people have any idea either.

It's bizarre to realize that she's the only one in this crowd of people who has ever heard a Rachel Berry solo. There's something very wrong about that.

"You'll see," Quinn responds cryptically. It'll be so much better this way.

Two more people sing songs before Rachel finally takes the stage.

Quinn feels her breath catch in her throat once Rachel is standing under the spotlight. God, that's really where she belongs, isn't it?

"Hey everyone, I'm Rachel," she introduces herself with far more maturity and contained stage presence than she would expect. There's almost a humbleness about her. "I'm actually not a Yale student, but I'm here with a friend of mine. She won't duet with me until after I sing."

A few people in the audience laugh.

"So here goes."

The opening guitar chords of a song begin, and she immediately recognizes it. She's surprised by Rachel's song choice, but maybe not as much as she might have been in the past.

One of the ways that Rachel has matured is in her song selections. She no longer feels the need to always pick songs that directly reflect what she's feeling and thinking. She can sing a song that doesn't reflect her own life at all, and still bring beauty and emotion to it.

That's exactly what this is. And even though she knows that this song doesn't relate to Rachel personally, Quinn's breath still catches at those first opening chords.

Because this song is  _intimate_ , and Rachel's about to perform it with no reservations.

" _Chest to chest…nose to nose…palm to palm…we were always just that clos_ e," Rachel begins in a smooth gentle voice.

Immediately, the mood in the room shifts. Everyone quiets down and turns their focus to this unknown girl taking over the stage. This isn't karaoke anymore-

This is a performance.

" _Wrist to wrist…toe to toe…lips that felt just like the inside of a rose_ ," she flows into the next line.

Quinn's eyes are locked onto Rachel, and she couldn't look away right now even if somebody begged her. Small trails of goose bumps rise against the back of her neck as Rachel sings the opening lyrics with captivating intimacy.

She isn't belting it out like a Celine power ballad. Not yet. Her voice washes over her audience in waves, wrapping them up and tugging them into the tide.

" _So how come when I reach out my finger…_ " her voice begins to build, " _it feels like more than distance between us_?"

As she reaches the end of the line, her voice and range expand, and the resonating perfect pitch of the last syllable envelops Quinn's senses.

Rachel's voice is  _perfect_ , and Quinn already feels this tightness building in her chest. Because how on  _earth_  has she let herself go this long without hearing Rachel sing?

" _In this California king bed, we're ten thousand miles apart_ ," Rachel powers into the chorus.

"Holy  _shit_ ," Jordan breathes out next to her.

" _I've been California wishing on these stars for your heart on me…my California king_."

And just like that, Rachel has the entire room completely captivated.

Quinn bites her lip and traces her eyes over Rachel, letting herself get lost in her voice.

The guitar chords repeat again for a couple beats, and then Rachel mellows her voice down and flows into the second verse.

" _Eye to eye…cheek to cheek…side by side…you were sleeping next to me. Arm in arm…dusk to dawn…with the curtains drawn…and a little last night on these sheets._ "

Quinn inhales sharply at the last line, and images flood her mind without her permission. Images that she rarely lets herself indulge. Images of what Rachel would look like in the early morning, sheets wrapped around her naked torso and tangled brown curls splayed across her pillow.

The conjured images invade her mind without apology, and she gets that much more lost in the notes of Rachel's voice.

When she reaches the chorus again, it's just as beautiful as the first time, and the entire audience listens.

The longer span of guitar chords begins, leading up to the bridge.

"You hear that?" Jordan says against her ear quietly.

"What?"

"The sound of Rachel making everybody's sexuality feel irrelevant."

Quinn whips her head around to stare at Jordan. "Seriously, she is  _gorgeous_ , Quinn. And god, her  _voice_ …"

"I know," she murmurs, turning her attention back to Rachel on stage. "Trust me, I know."

**XXxxXX**

When the final chords of the song come to a close, everyone begins to clap and cheer loudly. Rachel gives them a bright smile and voices a quick "thank you" into the microphone before exiting the small stage.

She makes her way back towards their table, with a few people stopping her along the way to talk to her. When she reaches the table, Quinn stands and wraps her arms around her in a hug.

"I had no idea how much I've missed your singing voice," Quinn speaks against her ear. She pulls back and Rachel is smiling at her.

"And I forgot how much fun singing without any pressure can be," she responds.

"That was unbelievable!" Jordan tells her. "I had no idea you could sing like that!"

Rachel turns to look at Quinn, who just shrugs in response. "I wanted him to be surprised."

"Mission accomplished, Quinn," he chuckles.

They sit and talk for a while again, and Rachel explains that she's actually studying musical theater and hopes to one day be on Broadway. This leads to an inevitable discussion about Glee club, and singing performances in high school.

Jordan listens to them talk back and forth with interest, hearing their stories of high school for the first time. They focus on the positive things; Jordan doesn't have a clue about their history, and they're keeping it that way for tonight.

"Alright, Q, it's time to fulfill your promise," Rachel tells her after they've been talking for more than half an hour.

"Okay okay…" Rachel pulls Quinn's hand and leads her over to the side of the stage where the music choices are. A couple people notice Rachel walking back towards the stage and whisper between each other.

Ten minutes later, Jordan and the rest of the crowd watch Quinn and Rachel take the stage.

"Hi, I'm Quinn, the friend who made this one sing," she nudges at Rachel playfully. "So I'm fulfilling my duet duty. If any of you think my voice sounds like Rachel's, expect to be disappointed," Quinn jokes and several people in the audience laugh in understanding.

"Let's do this!" Quinn exclaims brightly into the mic, indicating to the guy in control that they're ready to sing.

Jordan immediately senses the contrast between what Rachel sang and what they're now singing together. This song is goofy and fun, and Rachel and Quinn start dancing lightly and giggling while the intro electronic beats play.

Quinn raises her mic first, taking the intro line. This song isn't normally a duet, so they're improvising. It shouldn't be difficult though. This is pretty much what they used to do every time they baked together ion the kitchen.

" _You were a child crawlin' on your knees toward it_ ," Quinn croons in her gentle voice, doing a little dance jig in place and smiling at Rachel. They're facing each other instead of the audience.

" _Makin mama so proud, but your voice is too loud_ ," Rachel sings back, eyes sparkling at Quinn.

" _We like to watch yoooouuuu laughin'_ ," Quinn sings. " _You pick the insects off of plants. No time to think of consequences_."

" _Control yourself. Take only what you neeeed from it_ ," their voices join together, and Rachel does a little twirl, extending one arm above her head.

" _A family of treeeees wanted, to be haunted_ ," they continue together.

The electronic riff cuts in again, and Rachel and Quinn grin at each other, dancing across and switching places.

Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn can see people smiling in the audience, her and Rachel's mood infectious to the people watching.

She makes the decision right then and there that they need to do this more often. Even if it means singing spontaneously over skype. Music is what brought them together in the beginning, and it's still such an integral part of who they are. She just lost sight of that for a while.

They sing through the rest of the duet, and she's glad that Rachel had the idea to do something silly after that last solo she sang. MGMT is perfect for them tonight, and she can't remember the last time she smiled this much.

When they reach the end of the song, they're met with loud applause and cheers. She grabs Rachel's hand and does an exaggerated ridiculous bow with her before pulling her towards the edge of the stage.

Everyone tells them how cute they were as they walk back to their table, and Quinn's pretty sure that at least half the people in this room now think there's something going on between them.

Still, she feels a lightness settle in her chest that hasn't been there in ages, and she couldn't be happier with how this night has gone.

**XXxxXX**

"That was so much fun!" Rachel exclaims, skipping forward a few steps in the grass as they walk back to Quinn's dorm together.

"I'm glad you liked it," Quinn tells her, smiling.

"Seriously, that group is perfect for you, Quinn. And Jordan is awesome. And so is that Hayden guy. Everyone! They were all great. Tonight was great," she rambles with happiness.

Quinn's heart swells as she watches Rachel twirling around in front of her, talking animatedly about their night.

Rachel pauses and stands, looking at Quinn, waiting for her to catch up to her.

When Quinn reaches her, Rachel places her hands on Quinn's shoulders lightly, smile stretching across her face.

"What?" Quinn laughs, looking down at herself to figure out what Rachel is staring at.

"Nothing. I'm just so happy for you, Q. And I'm happy I get to share it with you."

Rachel's smile melts her, and warm brown eyes stare into her own.

She's aware of the fact that the distance between them is rapidly decreasing by her own fault, and now their faces are only a few inches apart.

She stares into Rachel's eyes, trying to read the thoughts hidden behind them and waiting for Rachel to turn around and keep walking.

But she's just smiling, and Quinn is smiling back because tonight was  _perfect_.

She feels her hand move independently of her control and rest against the side of Rachel's face, thumb gently tracing across her cheek for just a second.

And then without her brain's permission, her face is leaning even closer until there's only a millimeter of distance.

She doesn't give herself a moment to pause before her lips connect with Rachel's, and she feels warm dry lips against hers.

She faintly tastes vanilla chapstick and the remnants of sweet soda against her mouth, and Rachel's lips are just so soft and perfect. In this moment, she is disjointed. Separate from reality-

Until she feels a hand connect with her shoulder and Rachel yanking away from her body.

All of sudden, the reality of what she's just done attacks her. It wasn't a dream this time. It wasn't a fantasy. She actually did it. She actually kissed Rachel. Their lips made contact.

What the  _fuck_  did she just do?

Rachel stares at her with a mixture of shock and mild anger written across her face.

"What the  _hell_ , Quinn!"

Quinn just stares at her, completely frozen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were trying to figure out what the songs were, I apologize. But I didn't want to give away what they were before they happened. Recognizing the songs wasn't important to the narrative, especially since neither were chosen because of their lyrics.
> 
> But for those who are still wondering, Rachel's solo was "California King Bed" by Rihanna, and their duet was "Kids" by MGMT.


	18. Chapter 18

"What the  _hell_ , Quinn!" she snaps at her in an instinctual reaction.

Rachel is a couple steps away now, eyes wide and searching Quinn's face for an explanation.

Quinn stares back in absolute terror, shakily raising her hand to cover her mouth. But then lips connect with her palm, and all she can think is that those lips just touched Rachel's and she quickly drops her hand again.

She feels like she's suspended in this state of surrealism, because this can't be happening. This can't  _actually_  be happening.

"Quinn?" Rachel squeaks timidly in a gentler tone.

Her expressive brown eyes bore into Quinn's, asking all the questions that Quinn lacks the courage to answer.

Yeah. This is actually happening.

Her eyes well with tears, and something akin to lead settles like dead weight in her abdomen.

How could she be so monumentally stupid? How could she let this happen?

For just a fraction of a moment, she got lost in the happiness that tonight had brought her. She got caught up in how perfect Rachel had been at the Pride event, captivated by that brilliant smile, lost in those chocolate brown eyes.

For just a fraction of a moment, she let herself act on impulse.

And now she has to face the consequences.

It doesn't matter that Rachel was smiling a moment ago. It doesn't matter that she didn't turn away. It just means that she didn't expect Quinn to go for the kiss whatsoever until it was already happening.

Quinn knows this is the truth.

It's the truth because she is staring back at Rachel's face, and Quinn can't detect an ounce of a positive reaction.

The cold wind of the transitioning weather settles in her lungs, stinging at her airways as she tries to force herself to breathe.

"R-Rachel." It comes out as little more than a whimper. "I'm sorr-ry," she chokes, tears spilling out. "…so sorry," her voice fades to a whisper as the panic settles in and makes it harder for her to breathe.

"I…Quinn…why did you just…?" Rachel tries to formulate her question, watching Quinn unravel in front of her.

"Sorry. Sorry…so sorry," Quinn whispers over and over, a barely audible mantra of apology.

"You…you kissed me, Quinn," Rachel speaks into the cool air, as if saying it out loud will help to confirm its reality. "You just  _kissed_  me."

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective stance. She's not sure why she bothers. The thing that needs protecting the most right now can't be sheltered by her arms anyway.

Rachel can steal the hope right out of her with words alone.

" _Why_  did you just kiss me?"

"I…I don't know…" Quinn stammers through tears, gripping her sides with her hands.

"What do you  _mean_  you don't know?" Rachel's voice rises in volume, anger and frustration seeping back. "I know you've been dealing with a lot lately. I know you're probably really confused and trying to figure stuff out. But you can't just  _kiss_  me, Quinn!"

Quinn keeps her head down, as if this will somehow block the blows of Rachel's words.

"I'm your best friend, and it's not  _fair_  for you to put me in that position! It doesn't matter how confused you are! You don't get to take that confusion out on  _me_!"

She tries to contain her sob, but the visceral reaction still chokes out anyway. "I  _know_ , Rachel…I know …"

"Then why did you do it?" she questions in frustration.

Quinn's head is still facing the ground, and Rachel steps toward her again, waiting for her to look up. When her head doesn't rise, Rachel places her thumb and index finger against Quinn's chin, gently pulling her head up and forcing her to make eye contact.

Hazel eyes swirling with sadness and self-hatred stare back at her. "Why'd you do it Quinn?" she asks again quietly.

Maybe in a different circumstance, where Rachel is at least  _indifferent_  in her reaction, she might try to explain.

Maybe if she had an abundance of courage right now, she could manage to share the truth.

She could look at Rachel and say, " _I did it because you're beautiful. I did it because I've been wanting to kiss you for years_."

She would bare it all.

That's not her present circumstance though. And she's already reached her limit for how much her hope can be stomped on in one night.

She puts up as much of a mental guard as she can, then looks back into warm brown.

"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

Rachel continues to stare at her, waiting to see if she'll say anything more.

"You're right. It wasn't fair of me. You've been nothing but supportive about everything that I've been going through. Can we  _please_  just forget this ever happened?" Quinn pleads.

Rachel looks at her in sympathy and softly shakes her head. "I don't know if I can, Quinn. Not right away. I just need…time."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asks in fear.

"I mean it's gonna take me more than a couple minutes to move past the fact my best friend just kissed me out of the blue." Rachel pauses, rubbing at her forehead. "Do you ever wonder why everything with us  _always_  has to be so complicated?"

Quinn thinks about how much simpler things could have been if she'd never had these feelings for Rachel, about what it could have been like in high school for them and how things would be now.

"Everyday," Quinn mumbles, wiping a tear from her skin. Her crying has slowed down considerably, but she hasn't managed to quell it completely yet.

"I'm not mad at you, Quinn." She eyes Rachel doubtfully. "I'm a little frustrated, but I'm not mad."

"Really? Because you sure seemed mad a second ago," Quinn bites back.

"I couldn't help it! You  _completely_ got me off guard, Quinn. How did you expect me to react? Did you think I would just kiss you back until you came to your senses and stopped?" Rachel laughs humorlessly.

Quinn's lip trembles and she tries to conceal it by rubbing at her eyes with her palm. She knows better than to expect a positive response from Rachel. But hearing her talk about kissing her back, like it's the most ridiculous inconceivable notion, is shattering every stupid hope she's ever had about the girl.

"I get it, Rachel. Let's just go back to the dorm, okay? It's getting really cold." It's a lame excuse, but she needs this conversation to be over  _now_  before she completely loses it.

"Yeah, alright," she agrees.

They cross the main campus green together in painfully awkward silence, and they both try to steal glances at each other, rapidly turning away when they happen to look at the same time.

Quinn's got the upbeat goofy chorus of their duet  _Kids_  by MGMT stuck in her head.

How fucking ironic.

**XXxxXX**

Once they're back at Quinn's room, Rachel sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Quinn announces before Rachel tries to start talking again.

Quinn is forever the avoider, and Rachel remains the one who needs to externalize everything.

It makes navigating a friendship during difficult times disastrous.

"Okay," Rachel mutters. "I'm gonna wait until tomorrow to shower. So I'll just get ready for bed..."

Quinn nods silently and grabs her towel and shower caddy, escaping from the room and shutting the door behind her.

She turns the blast of the shower head to scalding and stands under the spray, remaining there for as long as she can without Rachel thinking she slipped and died and won't be coming back.

Since she forgot to bring a change of pajamas with her in her haste, she awkwardly pulls on panties and a pair of gym shorts while keeping her towel wrapped around her once she's back in the room. Then she grabs a long-sleeved t-shirt and turns away from the bed, quickly dropping her towel and shrugging the shirt over her head.

Rachel lays on her back on Quinn's bed, staring silently at the ceiling above her. Quinn watches her lay there for a moment, before making a final decision.

She reaches into the back of her closet and pulls out a thick spare blanket, folding it a couple of times and laying it on the ground as padding. After that she reaches onto the shelf above and pulls out the top sheet from her second set, the one that she uses when she needs to do laundry.

She drapes the sheet over the blanket on the ground, then pulls a fuzzy sweatshirt over her head to help her stay warm.

Rachel finally notices Quinn's movement and rustling around when she sees her fluffing out the sheet.

"Quinn, what are you doing?"

"Making my bed," she mutters in response.

Rachel sits up and wraps her arms around her knees. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sleeping on the floor. There's no way I'm making you share that small bed with me after I totally violated your trust tonight," Quinn tells her, grabbing one of the pillows off the side of her bed to use.

"Quinn, don't be ridiculous. You're not sleeping on the floor," Rachel huffs as Quinn sits down on the ground by her blanket.

"Yes, I am.  _Ridiculous_  would be making you cuddle up with me after I what I did. There's no way I'm gonna make you uncomfortable like that. So just let me sleep down here."

Rachel can detect Quinn's self-loathing in the way that she's talking. She knows that she can't argue though. At least not for the next few minutes. Quinn is way too stubborn to cave that quickly.

"If you insist," Rachel sighs.

Quinn stands to turn the light off. "May I?"

Rachel nods in response, and the room is plunged into near darkness. There's a little bit of light seeping through Quinn's window because of the street lamp, but it's only enough to illuminate the outline of Quinn's back while she lays on her side on the ground.

She lays in silence for a moment, staring at the blurred muted shapes of the ceiling.

"You're still my best friend," Rachel speaks softly into the darkness.

She waits for Quinn's voice, and instead hears nothing but silence.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn is curled up under her thin sheet, trying to get comfortable on her makeshift bed, when she hears Rachel speak gently.

"You're still my best friend."

She can't think of anything to say other than a bitter, "And I still want more." So she settles for saying nothing at all.

How has this managed to simultaneously be both one of the best and one of the worst nights of her life?

They had the perfect day with the worst ending.

Quinn closes her eyes and she's in an art gallery, Rachel's head resting against her shoulder as they look at a Degas painting together. A year ago this would have been nothing but a fantasy. Now it's a memory from just earlier this morning.

The image shifts and she sees Rachel smiling back at her, twirling as they sing under the spotlight together.

There's so much that she's trained her heart not to wish for. But the more her relationship with Rachel evolves, the more she subconsciously starts to hope.

Because she has already experienced so many things with Rachel that, as a high school sophomore, she could only dream about in her room at night.

Everything used to be so clearly defined. There were her dreams where Rachel loved her and Quinn got to be happy with her, and there was reality where she was untouchable and she ordered slushies on Rachel's face.

It was awful for Rachel and unhealthy for Quinn, but at least the line was very distinctly drawn. The difference between fantasy and reality was night and day.

Now the line has been blurred, and she's left with this weakened segregation where fantasies get confused with potential in reality. And it's entirely unhealthy for Quinn in a different way.

The last of the happy images of today dissolve into Rachel's face millimeters from her own, hand pushing against Quinn's collarbone as she scrambles away.

That's thing about this blurred line-

Even though the kiss was spontaneous in the worst way, a small part of her still thought that Rachel would kiss her back.

After all, that's what happens in every fantasy she's ever had.

Instead, she felt Rachel's soft lips touching hers for the first time after dreaming about it for  _so_  long, but she never felt those lips meld against her own.

She just felt a hand to her shoulder and then the absence of warm breath mixing with her own.

A few tears leak out of her eyes and she wipes her face with the back of her hand, trying to remain quiet. She breathes deeply through her mouth, trying not to let the sobs shake her body as she lets the disappointment consume her in a way that she didn't allow earlier.

"Quinn?" she hears Rachel's tentative voice cut through the silence.

She covers her mouth with her hand, quieting herself and hoping that Rachel will give up and go to sleep.

"Quinn, I know you're still awake. I can hear you crying," Rachel admits softly.

Quinn clenches her eyes shut and prays for Rachel to let it go, even though she knows that will never happen.

"How do you expect me to sleep when you're crying on the floor and I'm up here in your bed?"

She waits another minute for Quinn to respond, and slips out from underneath the covers when she doesn't.

Bare feet pad across the carpet, and she crouches down behind Quinn, who has her back turned. Rachel rests her hand on her bicep and squeezes gently.

"Please just come sleep up here," she pleads, tracing her fingertips in a circular motion on Quinn's sleeve, trying to comfort her.

Quinn keeps her eyes slammed shut as feels the light pressure of Rachel's fingers tracing along her upper arm.

But when she feels Rachel's other hand start running gently through her hair, that's when she loses it. She stops trying to keep her crying muted and turns around into Rachel.

Rachel immediately leans over Quinn, pulling her into her arms as the girl breaks down.

"Shhh, it' okay, Q. I've got you," Rachel murmurs against blonde hair as Quinn cries into her neck. "C'mon, let's get you off this floor."

Rachel pulls her up and leads her over to the bed, guiding Quinn under the blankets and following right after. As soon as she's settled into her pillow, she pulls Quinn to her side and wraps both of her arms around her, letting Quinn's head sink against her shoulder.

She runs her hand up and down Quinn's back, and just lets her cry. Rachel can't even begin to comprehend everything that Quinn is finally releasing from suppression, so she helps her in the only way that she knows how-

By making sure she doesn't have to cry alone.

**XXxxXX**

The next morning, Quinn wakes up with her head resting against something that is definitely not her pillow. She cracks one eye open and sees that her head is still resting on Rachel's shoulder, and her arm is draped across the smaller girl's stomach.

She groans and turns her head, blinking against the sunlight that's streaming brightly into the room. Quinn feels Rachel shift against her and then the other girl is blinking her eyes open as well.

"Hi," Rachel mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"Hi." Quinn gives her the faintest of smiles. "About last night…" she begins awkwardly.

"Which part? The kissing or the crying?" she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

God, sleepy Rachel is even more unfiltered than normal Rachel.

"Uh, well, both, kind of," Quinn stutters. "More the crying though. Thanks…ya know…for being there, for being a great friend even when I didn't deserve it."

"If we only took care of each other when we're at our best, our relationship would be non-existent," Rachel replies, more awake now.

She thinks about all of their interactions from earlier in high school, and realizes that Rachel is right. They have a habit of finding each other at their absolute worst.

"Either way, thank you."

"You're welcome." Rachel gives her a soft smile and sits up in bed, running her fingers through tangled brown hair.

"So…are we okay?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

"I haven't forgotten about last night. But we'll be okay, Quinn," she assures her.

Quinn exhales in relief and climbs out of bed, grabbing her face wash and her toothbrush and paste.

"Breakfast in twenty?" she asks, standing by the door.

Rachel hums in agreement, "Sounds good."

**XXxxXX**

After lunch, Quinn carries Rachel's suitcase down the stairs and holds open the door as they leave Branford to take Rachel back to the bus stop.

Once they get there, Quinn stands with her and waits for her bus. If it's on schedule, it should be here in a little over five minutes.

"I had a good weekend, Quinn."

Quinn arches her eyebrow at her, clearly questioning Rachel's honesty.

"Okay, so last night was a little fucked up." Her eyes widen slightly at Rachel's rare use of that expletive. "But I really did have a good time the rest of the weekend.  _Even_  looking at modern art," Rachel teases with a smile.

"I'm sorry I spent practically half the weekend crying," Quinn mutters.

"Yeah, well, you spent the other half of it laughing and making me smile, so it's even."

"We really needed this weekend, didn't we?"

Rachel nods in agreement. "We did. For the record, I would appreciate it if major life revelations did  _not_  occur over skype in the future. I don't think I could handle that again. It made me want to hop on a bus here as soon as you hung up on me."

Quinn laughs lightly. "Noted."

Then she removes her backpack from her shoulder, and drags the zipper open. "I have something I want to give you."

Rachel looks at her in surprise. "What is it?"

"Remember when you left the gallery for a few minutes yesterday because your dads called?"

"Yeah…"

"While you were on the phone, I got something for you at the gift shop." She pulls a small plastic tube out of her bag. "Don't open it now because it's all packaged nicely. But, I got you a mini poster of that Degas painting for your dorm room."

"You did?" Rachel's eyes light up and a smile stretches across her face. "But why?"

"Think of it as a souvenir from the weekend. And maybe a little something for your room to subtly remind you of Yale."

Rachel grasps the small cylindrical container, then pulls Quinn into a hug. "You're a sweetheart, Quinn. Thank you."

Quinn squeezes back for a moment, then pulls away and smiles. "I think your bus is here," she says, looking over Rachel's shoulder.

She turns, and sure enough, her bus is a few meters away and headed towards them.

"Thanks for coming this weekend, Rachel. And for spending time with my friends last night. It meant a lot."

"I'm just glad I finally got to come visit you here," she answers, shouldering her backpack and pulling up the handlebar on her little suitcase.

"Have a safe trip back. Text me when you're back on campus, please." Quinn gives her another quick hug as the bus comes to a stop in front of them.

"I will," Rachel tells her, pulling away from the hug and boarding the bus. "Love you, Quinn."

"You too, Rach. Bye!"

She hears hiss of the of the brakes being released, and then the bus is driving away. Quinn watches it disappear around the corner and pulls out her phone to send a text.

_Call me when you get a chance. I have SO much to tell you._

Quinn walks back across the campus green to head to the library. A couple of minutes later, as she passes the Psychology building, she hears her phone beep from her pocket.

_**Making waffles with B right now. I'll call you in a bit.**_

She reads the text from Santana, then slips her phone back into her pocket.

Damn, what a weekend.

Now she's got to go do two hundred pages of reading and write an essay on Faulkner.

Great.


	19. Chapter 19

She's half way through act two of  _King Lear_  when her phone vibrates against her desk in the library.

A quick glance away from her book tells her that Santana is calling back, and she looks around the library at the people working near her as she accepts the call.

"Hey, San. Give me a second. I'm in the library," Quinn speaks quietly into the phone. "Let me just pack my stuff up and I'll call you back in a couple minutes."

She hears Santana agree and disconnects the call, gathering her stuff back into her backpack. She knows this is going to be a long conversation, and it's not one that she can whisper her way through.

She walks to a secluded bench underneath a tree, then pulls out her phone again. It's a little cold, but manageable, and she's got a warm coat on.

"Hey Q. So what's up?" Santana asks as soon as she dials back.

"So much. So much I don't even know where to start."

"Shit, you don't sound excited. Weren't you with Rachel this weekend? What happened?"

"More like what didn't happen," Quinn mutters. "Well you already know that I came out to Rachel last week."

"Yup. Still can't believe you actually managed to do it though."

"Me either," she replies honestly. Quinn pauses and fiddles with the edge of her coat sleeve, staring at the trees around her.

"San, I… did something last night," she admits quietly.

She hears Santana sigh into the phone. "You didn't drunkenly hook up with another random chick did you? 'Cause I don't know if I could handle take two of that convo."

"What? No! I was with Rachel all weekend."

"Well you obviously didn't hook up with  _her_  so…" Santana trails off, waiting for Quinn to fill in the explanation.

She remains quiet though, trying to work herself up to telling Santana.

"Q?" She hears, when she's been quiet for too long.

She breathes in deep, then speaks into the phone, "I kissed Rachel last night."

"Thank the fucking lord!" Santana yells into the phone in reply. "About freaking time you told her! I don't how much longer I could have handled this pining from afar shit."

Quinn feels her eyes tear up when Santana completely misinterprets what happened.

"No! No, San, it's not like that," she mumbles. "I didn't tell her  _anything_. I just kissed her, and she pushed me off of her."

The line is silent for a moment. Then-

"What the fuck? What do you  _mean_  you didn't tell her?"

Quinn rubs at her eye, then rests her hand in her lap. "I mean I just kissed her. I wasn't thinking. She was  _right_  there, and we had the best night, and something just came over me. And then it was happening and I couldn't take it back."

"Woah woah wait," Santana cuts in. "You're telling me you  _kissed_  her, but you still haven't  _told_  her?"

"Yeah," she sighs in reply, hating everything about last night that much more now that Santana is voicing it out loud.

"How does that even  _work_  though? I mean, what did you say after you planted one on her? Whoops my bad I just kinda tripped into your lips even though you know I'm totally gay? You can't exactly talk your way out of that one…"

Quinn blinks rapidly and looks at the leaves and branches above her, trying to keep herself steady.

"I didn't really have to. She kinda talked my way out of it  _for_  me," she mutters.

"Q, what the hell are you talkin' about?" Santana huffs, exasperated.

"As soon as she stepped away from me, she started yelling about how she gets that I'm confused or whatever but that I can't take it out on her by kissing her," she sighs, trying to explain what really happened to Santana.

"God, the only thing worse than you still pining for Berry is the fact that she  _still_  won't get a clue. Do you have any idea how fucking frustrating you two are? Every time I think you guys are finally moving forward, it's another two steps back."

"I know," she mumbles, wiping at her eyes again. Stupid tear ducts.

Santana is quiet for a moment, then speaks in a much softer voice.

"She didn't kiss you back at all, did she?" she asks in tone that conveys she pretty much already knows the answer.

"Not one bit," Quinn whispers back.

"Well you can't exactly blame her, Quinn," Santana voices the blunt truth.

"Gee,  _thanks_ ," Quinn bites back. "I don't even know why the fuck I bothered calling you."

"Will you just shut up and  _listen_  to me for a sec before you get all defensive?" Santana cuts in. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm saying that, to Rachel, you're still best friends. She has no reason to think you guys would be anything else. That doesn't mean she's  _opposed_ to kissing you necessarily. She's just literally  _never_  considered it. So when you suddenly jump the girl, of course she's gonna push you away," Santana tries to rationalize with her.

" _How_  can she not see how much I'm in love with her?" she asks pathetically.

"Because you're still Quinn Fabray to her," Santana replies.

"What does that even-" Quinn tries to understand what Santana is implying but she's not getting it.

"You're her best friend Quinn. But you're also still  _Quinn Fabray_  to her," she elaborates. "You're still that painfully beautiful girl that could have  _anyone_  she wanted. After how long you spent trashing her appearance, it doesn't matter how kind you are to her now. Guessing that you're in love with her is that  _last_  thing she'll ever think, because the thought that Quinn Fabray could actually be into her is  _ridiculous_."

It's scary how much Santana can make sense sometimes. The girl's got a way better read of people than anyone gives her credit for. She's in business school for a reason.

Quinn's eyes widen as Santana lays out her explanation of why Rachel is so clueless. That can't be the reason though. That's insane. That Rachel thinks she's somehow out of her _league_  or something, that Quinn could never want her in that way.

"But…the only person I've ever really wanted is  _her_ ," she whines.

"Yeah, but  _she_  doesn't know that," Santana exclaims. "How many times has that damn girl called you pretty or beautiful, Q? I don't want you to think that she's for sure hiding some Sapphic love for you. I'm just sayin'- who knows? The point is, Rachel doesn't think you'd ever see her in that way, so she's never gonna get it. Not unless someone clues her in. And I bet even then it'd take convincing."

This whole thing is just  _so_  frustrating. Why is it so impossible for Rachel to believe? Rachel knows how much she cares about her, how much she values her as a person. Why are her feelings  _so_  inconceivable?

"San, she knows that I think she's great. She  _knows_  I didn't mean all that stuff back in high school."

"Does she really, Quinn?" Santana's question slices through her. "Yeah, sure, you've apologized. You've become besties. But have you ever said anything to negate all the shit you used to say about her? Have  _you_  ever told  _her_  she's beautiful?"

She considers Santana's question for a moment, and thinks back through all the time she's spent with Rachel. The only time she remembers explicitly stating it was back at the beginning of the semester when that douchebag of a professor told her she wasn't pretty enough to play a lead. She thinks through that conversation, and then dread settles in her stomach.

_You are_ beautiful _._

_I just can't believe you, Quinn._

_Why the hell not?_

_Because I can't trust someone who says I'm beautiful when they spent more than a_ year  _calling me manhands and RuPaul!_

"Oh my  _god_ ," Quinn cries. "She really still thinks I see her as the unattractive one."

"It's not exactly surprising when you've never said anything to make her think otherwise," Santana voices the unfortunate truth.

"But it's not because she's  _ugly_! It's because if I told her she was beautiful every time the thought crossed my mind, she'd see how freaking  _gay_  for her I am!"

Santana sighs in understanding. "She doesn't know that though. Rachel's mega insecure about how she looks. And reality is, we're somewhat responsible for that. She can't see herself the way that you've  _really_  seen her all along, Q. Not on her own."

Quinn just wants to travel back in time and beat some sense into her younger self. She thought she was coping at the time. If only she had known just how much the consequences of her actions would follow her.

She thinks of every time she was standing in the hallway while one of the jocks splattered frozen colored ice chips across Rachel's face. She thinks of all those myspace comments she used to leave on Rachel's beautiful videos, and how her profile picture made it abundantly clear exactly who was leaving the comments.

_You should get sterilized._

_You shouldn't even be allowed to exist with that nose._

_No wonder your mom didn't want you._

"I..I gotta go, San," she says through tears. "I'll tell you a-about my weekend later. I need some time right now. I c-can't…"

"I get it," Santana answers softly, gradually getting uncomfortable with emotional Quinn. She's never handled tears particularly well. That was always Brittany's job. "Call me a different time if you wanna talk about the rest of the weekend."

"Bye," she sniffles, before disconnecting the call.

She shoves her phone into her pocket, then abruptly stands, walking swiftly back towards her dorm.

Screw her  _King Lear_  reading and her essay. She'll pull an all-nighter later if she has to. Right now, she just needs to fucking  _run_. Cold weather be damned.

She strips herself of her blouse and jeans, shrugging on sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

Then she laces up her Adidas violently, yanking the shoestrings in knots against the curve of her feet, and throws her ipod and other necessities into her drawstring bag.

She doesn't even bother waiting until she gets to the track to run. She starts her workout as soon as her feet hit the gravel in the Branford courtyard.

Once she reaches the track, she pulls her ipod from her bag, and shoves the earbuds into her ears.

Her player is set to Kanye's most recent album, and she lets her senses get drowned in the beats and the dark rhymes.

She hits the track at an unforgiving pace, pushing herself forward and making her muscles burn with exertion.

If she overwhelms herself with physical pain and exhaustion, she won't have to deal with how much she's fucked up her own hopes.

At least, that's the plan.

She feels her rubber soles grip the curve of the track as she rounds another countless lap. Haunting piano chords transition into dark driving beats.

_And I always find something wrong. You've been puttin' up with my shit just way too long._

She welcomes the sting of cold air against her lungs, attacking her airways.

_Let's have a toast for the douchebags. Let's have a toast for the assholes._

Self-loathing lyrics drive into her mind, and she relishes in the burn pulsing through her calves.

She sprints. She pushes and pushes and she doesn't stop.

_Baby I got a plan._

_Runaway fast as you can._

**XXxxXX**

Rachel sends a quick text to Quinn once she reaches the bus terminal to let her know that she made it back to the city. The longest part is over with. At this point she's just a few subway stops away from her east coast home.

It's late in the afternoon by the time she finally slips her key into the lock and pushes open her door. Naomi is at her desk, doing reading for one of her general education classes, and she looks up when Rachel enters the room.

"Hey! You're back! How was your weekend?" she questions with a smile, shutting her book and spinning her desk chair around to face Rachel who collapses back onto her bed.

"My weekend was…all over the place." She sits up just enough to strip her coat off, then lays back against her pillow and stares at the ceiling.

"Uh-oh. What does that mean?"

"It means it was really great. But then also really complicated," Rachel tells her, subconsciously counting the ridges imbedded in the off-white paint as she stares up.

"Are you gonna keep being super vague, or are you gonna fill me in?" Naomi laughs lightly, throwing a spare pillow at Rachel to get her attention.

She lifts her head up for a second, eyeing Naomi warily, then drops her head back again.

"Quinn kissed me last night," Rachel confesses quietly.

" _What_!" Naomi practically jumps out of her chair, then forces herself to settle down. "Wait- why? What did she say?"

Did Quinn actually get the nerve to fess up to Rachel this weekend?

"She didn't  _say_  anything! We were walking back to her dorm after this karaoke night thing, which was totally fun and I'll tell you about in a bit. But yeah, we were just walking back, and I was laughing and goofing around. And then once she caught up, we were standing super close. I got kinda confused, because she looked like she was gonna go for a hug. But why would she hesitate so much to hug me, ya know? Then  _bam_  Quinn lips all over  _my_  lips!"

Naomi's mouth drops open in shock. "She just…kissed you? With no warning or reason?"

"Yup." Rachel accentuates the  _p_ , popping it against her lips.

"So what did you do?" Naomi leans forward, anxious to hear how the rest of this played out.

"Umm… well, once I got over the  _shock_  of it all, I pushed her away from me. I mean, what else  _could_  I do?"

Oh,  _fuck_. Quinn must be a wreck. What the hell was she even thinking?

"Geez. That must have been awkward," she eventually states. What else is she supposed to say when Rachel still doesn't get what's really going on?

" _Oh_ yeah. The worst part of it all was how bad she felt about it. I could tell how much she regretted it. When we got back to the room, she wouldn't even sleep in her bed. She made a place to sleep on the floor so I wouldn't have to be so close to her."

Rachel pictures Quinn huddled up on the floor, the quiet sounds of crying punctuating the suffocating silence. She remembers how reluctant Quinn was, and how she completely broke down once Rachel was beside her.

"I can't even imagine how much she's been going through. I'm sure coming to terms with her sexuality hasn't been easy. And there's been some stuff with Beth too, I think."

"Beth?" Naomi asks in confusion.

"Her daughter," she clarifies.

Naomi nods and exhales, not really sure what to say.

"So what did you think?" she asks cautiously.

"About what?" Rachel looks at her expectantly.

"About the kiss…"

"What do you mean?" Rachel eyes with confusion. "I told you- her lips were there and I was totally frozen. Then I pushed her away."

"No, I'm saying- was it weird for you? Having another girl kiss you? I mean, I know it was awkward 'cause it was Quinn. But like, more in general, did that part of it freak you out too?"

She's curious how much of this was about Quinn and how much of this was about another girl trying to kiss her.

Rachel frowns at her in confusion, and shakes her head. "Naomi, my  _best friend_  kissed me. I don't care that Quinn's a girl! I care that it was  _Quinn_!," she exclaims. "I've always identified more as bisexual anyway, but it was  _Quinn_. Quinn!"

Naomi sucks in a breath and freezes at Rachel's casual admittance. Did she just-

"You're  _bi_?" she says in wonder, eyes widening.

" _Really?_   _That's_  what you, my pansexual roommate, is choosing to focus on right now?" she huffs in exasperation.

"Well,  _yeah_! I thought you were only into dudes!"

Did she majorly miss something here? Because Quinn never mentioned that Rachel is bisexual, and she's pretty sure that would have come up at some point if she knew.

"I really didn't think this would be a big deal to you. But yes, I've been sexually attracted to women before. I tend to prefer guys, but not exclusively," Rachel explains lightly.

" _Woah_ ," Naomi breathes out.

"I don't get what the big deal is," Rachel pouts at her, confused.

"Sorry. It's not a big deal. I'm just surprised is all. Moving on now…"

Rachel nods gratefully and continues on to explain what happened the rest of the weekend.

But Rachel's voice kind of fades to white noise, because all she can think about is this new information. She thought Quinn might have a shot with Rachel way back when she barely knew either of them, because she thought Quinn might be an only exception kind of deal for Rachel.

Now she can't stop fixating on this additional piece of the puzzle.

Rachel Berry is bisexual.

And it's such a casual insignificant thing to her that Quinn has absolutely no idea.

**XXxxXX**

She's not sure what time it is exactly, but the sun is lower than before. And when did she decide to take a nap?

"Quinn! Quinn is that you? Fuck! Are you okay?" she hears a voice yelling, but it's kind of filtered and far away at first.

She manages to blink her eyes open, and blurry images focus into Jordan's worried face hovering above her.

"What the hell happened to you, Quinn?" He looks at her in worry. "Do I need to call you an ambulance or something?"

Quinn blinks a few times, becoming more alert at mention of an ambulance. She lifts her head slightly to look around and realizes that she's lying down on the track.

Jordan is dressed in his soccer practice gear and probably just found her.

She must have passed out a little bit ago from pushing herself to the breaking point.

Coach Sylvester did always use to say that a practice wasn't a success until at least one girl fainted. It's just that the girl had almost never been her.

"I'm fine," Quinn mumbles, slowly lifting herself into a sitting position. "I think I ran too hard."

"No shit, Quinn. God, the body has pain receptors for a  _reason_. You're meant to listen to them. When was the last time you drank water?"

"I don't remember," she mutters, scratching at her head, and looking around her at the people standing a few feet away and watching curiously.

"You need to hydrate. Here, drink some of this." He pulls a water bottle from his bag and hands it over. She didn't even realize how thirsty she was until she starts drinking, but suddenly she feels parched and she drains almost the entire bottle.

"What happened to you, Quinn? Why are you pushing yourself so hard out here?" Jordan looks at her with concern, pushing some of her hair away from her sweaty face.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replies immediately, forcing her muscles to make herself stand.

Jordan places his hands under her elbows to support her weight once he realizes that she's standing up.

"Did something happen with Rachel?," he prods anyway, looking at her face.

It's almost terrifying how quickly the spark in Quinn's eyes appears to go lifeless.

"I  _said_  I don't want to talk about it," she bites back through gritted teeth.

"Woah, okay okay, I'm sorry. I'll drop it. Do you need me or someone else to walk you back to your dorm?"

"No, I'm fine. You've got practice anyway." Quinn shrugs him off, and takes a few steps forward. But her legs nearly give out on her and she has to catch herself to keep from falling again.

"Screw that, I'm walking you back. No way you're going all the way back there by yourself," he tells her, wrapping a supportive arm around her waist. "Brandon, tell coach that a student passed out on the track and I need to get her back to the main part of campus. Tell him I'll make up the drills that I miss at the end of practice if I need to."

The teammate that he's addressing nods in acknowledgement and jogs over to tell their coach what's going on.

"You didn't have to do that," Quinn mumbles.

"Yes, I did. Now put your arm around my neck so I know you won't collapse on the sidewalk."

Quinn grudgingly obeys him and places her hand on his opposite shoulder for support while he keeps his arm around her waist.

They walk slowly back to Branford together, and Jordan stays true to his promise that he won't bring up Rachel or what might have happened.

Instead, he keeps his arm steady against her side, and waits patiently while Quinn digs through her bag for her keycard and lets them into the building once they get there.

They gradually climb the stairs together, and Jordan helps her with the key as Quinn fumbles with shaky hands.

He guides her over to the bed and helps her slip off her shoes, discarding them on the floor.

Quinn has been stoically quiet the entire time and refuses to make eye contact with him when he rises to look at her face.

He stares at her for a moment, waiting to see if she'll speak, and then sighs. "You look like you need a hug. Are you gonna try to punch me if I hug you?" he asks her with a warm smile.

Quinn's eyes dart around the room for a moment before finally settling on Jordan's gaze. She looks in his eyes for a beat, then ever so slightly shakes her head. It's barely an acceptance, but it's there.

He pulls her up gently from her sitting position and wraps his strong arms around her, hoping that it will help since she's so entirely opposed to talking.

Quinn is unresponsive for a good thirty seconds before he finally feels her tired arms slink up to wrap around his upper back.

"Thank you," she whispers into his chest, barely audible.

He squeezes his arms a little tighter in response and rests his head on top of hers.

"Anytime."

**XXxxXX**

It's almost eight o'clock when Rachel abruptly tells her roommate that she's going for a walk.

Naomi looks up from her computer screen in surprise. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, I need to go by myself. Don't worry, I'm staying on the main street and taking the subway directly to where I'm going. I'll be fine. I should be back in a little over an hour."

Naomi looks at her in confusion. "Why are you taking the subway? I thought you were going for a walk."

"I am. Just trust me. I'll have my phone with me. I can text you every twenty minutes or so if that will make you feel better."

"Please do," she nods.

Rachel shoulders her purse, wrapping her scarf more tightly around her neck as she shuts the door behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, she's underground at her subway stop and the harsh metal is screeching to a stop in front of her. The dinging of the doors slides open and she steps onto the train, gripping the nearest railing above her as the car takes off again.

She gets off three stops later, then waits for her train on a different line to arrive. Finally, another four stops later, she ascends the steps and walks out into her favorite part of the city.

Bright overhanging signs and illuminated marquees are scattered amongst tall buildings, and she stares down the pathway of her dreams.

Literally. This road right here has it all.

She looks to the left and sees the normal green street sign that indicates this is the place of all her lifelong goals.

Broadway.

She's only been here a handful of times since she arrived in the city for school. It's not exactly close to campus, and it requires a special trip for her to come see it.

Between classes and all the work she has to do, she rarely thinks to just come out here for the hell of it.

It's always on the difficult days, on the days where she needs to stare directly at her dreams and grasp ahold of her inspiration again.

Relationships in her life may get complicated. Navigating friendships might get difficult. Other people may come and go in her life.

But this right here is her constant.

She's going to make it here someday.

And nothing, not even the difficult days, is going to stop her.


	20. Chapter 20

"Are you mad at yourself for losing control?" Dr. Carlton questions her patiently.

A couple days have passed since Rachel returned to New York, and now she is retelling the sequence of events to her counselor.

She assumed that this would be a little easier, since she's already had to share it once to Santana. But it turns out that saying it all a second time is almost harder.

Because she can't hang up on her therapist.

She'd have to storm out of the room.

And what good would that accomplish?

Quinn looks up from the carpet and back into Dr. Carlton's eyes.

"Of  _course_  I'm mad at myself for losing control. Furious, actually. Things were  _finally_  getting back to how I wanted them to be and then I had to go and fuck it up all over again."

"Have you considered just telling Rachel everything? This can't go on much longer, Quinn. I can see how close you are to the breaking point. It's affecting your happiness here at Yale, even when she's eighty miles away. This isn't a contained issue that you can suppress anymore. It's taking over everything, isn't it?"

Quinn sighs and drops her head into her hands, nodding in resignation.

"Yeah. It is."

Dr. Carlton observes her closely and taps her pen against her notepad, carefully considering Quinn's predicament.

"Freshman year of college is such a big year for so many people, Quinn. It's a time of self-discovery, a time of new experiences, a time to discover your passions. If you keep letting these things with Rachel consume you, you're never going to be able to make the most of your first year of college."

She hates to admit defeat, but it's true. All of this drama with Rachel has put a serious damper on her first semester of school. Sure, there have been several good things, but there's so much more that she could be doing. There are people all over the place who share her interests, for the first time in her life. And instead of exploring that and forming new relationships based on those commonalities with other students, her focus is caught somewhere between New Haven and the Brooklyn Bridge.

"So what are you saying I should do?" she sighs.

"I'm saying that if you want to really start to enjoying your life here at Yale, you need to make a conscious effort to move forward on this issue. You've got two options at this point, Quinn. Either tell Rachel the whole truth and see if something comes of it, or make the decision to put your feelings for her behind you and work to move forward with your new life here at Yale. You're trying to exist somewhere in between, and it's exhausting you."

Quinn inhales deeply through her nose, closing her eyes and focusing on this dichotomy that Dr. Carlton is presenting to her. As much as she would like to get back to how things were with Rachel at the end of the summer, that's just not a possibility anymore. Too much has transpired.

The whole point of her paving her own path and moving to Connecticut was to start fresh, to begin the next chapter of her life. But she just hasn't managed to fully turn the page yet.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she recalls something that her great uncle used to say. He was always the only one she actually enjoyed talking to at family reunions. Whenever a Fabray would stand to make a pompous speech, to talk about a new achievement or a new push forward in their lives, he would always turn to look at Quinn with a glimmer in his eye.

He would look at her and say, "You know what the problem with starting something new is?"

In her younger years, he would answer his own question. But by the time she was nine and ten years old, he allowed her to finish the statement.

She thinks of her pre-teen self, sitting on a professionally tailored dining room chair with perfect blonde curls and a gold cross slung around her neck.

"The problem is that you always bring you with you," she'd reply with a soft smile.

The phrase had never really made sense. Not until now.

But now, now she gets it. The one commonality in everything you will ever attempt and every change you will ever make is  _yourself_.

_You always bring you with you_.

Even though she's in New Haven now, it doesn't mean all her past got left behind in Lima. It carried itself with her, and she has to actively work to put it to rest and move on.

And Rachel is making that infinitely more difficult.

"I can't tell her. It would destroy us. Why bother when I know she's never gonna see me in that way?"

Dr. Carlton nods in understanding and acceptance of Quinn's decision.

"So it's time to move on?"

"It's time to move on."

Her counselor looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, then checks her watch.

"We still have half an hour left, if there's something else you'd like to talk about."

Quinn wrings her hands together nervously, then ducks her head down for a moment before hesitantly looking up again.

"I think…I think I'm ready. Ready to start talking about other stuff. You know we said we'd start with the most recent stuff and work back. Well…I'm ready. To go a little further back I mean."

Dr. Carlton looks at her patiently and waits for Quinn to continue.

She ducks her head to the carpet again, and closes her eyes, picturing that small angelic face.

"I have a two and a half year old daughter," she states quietly.

When Quinn hears nothing in response, she slowly raises her head to look for herself. Dr. Carlton is working to remain impassive and professional, but Quinn can tell how surprised she is.

"I got pregnant the first time I had sex with a guy," she mutters in further explanation.

Dr. Carlton continues to remain quiet, waiting to see what Quinn will say.

Quinn takes that as her cue.

And she begins her tale about a day of insecurity spent with a charming guy and a pack of wine coolers.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn holds her phone against her ear while she sits in the dining hall eating her dinner. It rings a couple of times before a friendly voice comes through.

"Hey, Quinn! How are you? Better than Sunday, I hope," Jordan greets her.

"Much better than Sunday. Thank you for helping me, by the way. I know I was kind of short with you, but I really did appreciate it. The rest of my weekend really didn't go too well," she admits.

"You ever gonna tell me what happened?"

Quinn bites her lip in consideration, but decides against it. Talking about this once already is  _more_  than enough for one day.

"Not right now. I actually called you because I don't have Hayden's cell phone number."

"Hayden?" Jordan asks in surprise, an edge of excitement to his voice at what Quinn might be implying.

"Yeah, Hayden. Can you let him know that I'll be a model for the show? I don't wanna be super last minute and wait until Sunday."

"Are you serious? You're actually gonna model for the show?" he exclaims.

"I am. If they still need people, that is."

That was one of the first things that she decided once she left her session with Dr. Carlton. The fashion show will be a chance for her to try something new, and force herself out of her comfort zone. Plus, she's bound to meet a bunch of people by participating.

"Dude, that's so awesome! I can't believe I'm gonna be DJing you on the runway!"

Jordan's excitement is contagious and Quinn laughs in response.

"Hey, Jordan, I was also wondering about something else too," she says with slight hesitation.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Are you going to any parties this weekend?"

"Umm...yeah, Zeta Psi has a party on Friday. I'm not DJing though. Just going for fun. Why?"

"I want to come with you. If that's okay," she mumbles.

"For real? You should come then! But don't be dancing all over girls if you still wanna keep your sexuality under the radar," he says with a light laugh.

Quinn shakes her head and laughs too.

"That's, umm, kind of the reason I want to come actually," she admits shyly.

Jordan pauses for a second until he realizes-

"Oh,  _damn_! Am I gonna be your wingman on Friday?" he exclaims with a loud laugh.

"If you're up for it."

God, this is embarrassing. Her cheeks are tinted pink and she bites her lip in nervousness.

"I would  _love_  to be your wingman, Quinn. What about Rachel though?" he asks hesitantly.

"It's not happening. I love Rachel, but I need to move on, Jordan," she states quietly.

"Hey, it's all good. I was just checkin'. We'll hit up the party together on Friday."

Quinn sighs in relief, nervous excitement taking over.

"Cool. Thank you."

Jordan abruptly starts laughing, and Quinn blushes.

"What?" He keeps laughing. "What's so funny?" she asks with insecurity.

"Nothing. Just thinking about how many women are gonna be all over you on Friday once they know you're fair game. You aren't gonna  _need_  a wingman, Quinn."

She still doesn't know what kind of interest to expect from other women. She hasn't been in this kind of social setting since she's become more open about her sexuality.

Guys used to trip head over heels for her. But it was just annoying because…well, because they were guys.

If it's women though…

This could be fun.

**XXxxXX**

She's just adding the last touch of mascara to her eye when her phone buzzes on her desk. She quickly caps the make-up, then accepts the call.

"Hey!"

"Hey, I'm out in the main courtyard."

"Okay, let me just get my coat on and then I'll be right down."

She hangs up on Jordan, and then quickly slides on her heels, grabbing her coat and her keys.

After a little deliberation and looking at the limited options in her closet, she decided to go with the same dress that she wore back at that first party.

It's really the best option, and it's not like anyone is going to remember. Plus, she knows she looks way sexy in this dress.

Last time that wasn't so important, but it's kind of the point tonight. She's finally going to have fun and be herself, and that means dressing to impress.

Jordan sees her through the tall window in the foyer as she pulls on her coat and exits the building.

As soon as she steps outside of the dorm, Jordan shakes his head with a smile and gives her a light hug.

"I pity those frat guys tonight," he laughs, quickly scanning his eyes over her coat to tell Quinn that he knows exactly what she's wearing underneath.

A slight blush tints her cheeks and she smiles bashfully.

"I'm not really concerned about the frat guys tonight," she winks playfully, and links her arm through his as they head across campus together.

Jordan grins and shakes his head.

"Like I said, you  _so_  aren't gonna need a wingman."

**XXxxXX**

She immediately feels more comfortable than she did at her first party. For one thing, she isn't trying to deal with all the Beth related drama that she was last time. It also really helps that Jordan is arriving with her this time, and seems to be serious about sticking with her for at least the first part of the party.

"A shot to kick off the night?" he asks with a grin as they approach the drinks.

"Sure," she smiles back, and Jordan pours each of them a tequila shot.

"Here's to finding you a hot woman tonight."

Jordan clinks his shot glass against hers, and Quinn grins, tossing back the tequila.

"Jordan, my man! What's up? I haven't seen you around lately!" A tall guy that looks like another athlete at Yale greets him.

"I know! Between classes and soccer things have been crazy lately," he replies.

"Season starts in February, right?"

Jordan nods in agreement. "Yep. Invitational's the first weekend."

"Wait, you guys are in off-season right now?" Quinn asks in surprise.

"Yeah. Your sport is a year round commitment once you start playing at college level."

She never really stopped to think about it, but it makes sense. Now she knows why Jordan never really mentions any games, even though he's practicing all the time.

"Kevin, this is my friend Quinn," Jordan introduces the two of them.

Quinn immediately notices the appreciative stare that he's giving her.

"Nice to meet you, Quinn," he says with a charming smile.

"One more shot before I hit the dance floor?" she asks Jordan in an attempt to box out this other guy before he gets the wrong idea.

Jordan catches on and smiles, subtly shaking his head. He pours each of them another shot, and mumbles into her ear when Kevin gets distracted by the arrival of someone else.

"Pity for all the dudes tonight, I'm tellin' you," he reiterates what he said earlier with a wink, glancing at Kevin before downing his shot.

Quinn follows suit, and it doesn't take long at all before she can feel the effect of the two shots. There's a strong buzz floating through her head now, and it's just the amount she needs to go stag on the dance floor.

Jordan watches her glance over at the crowd of people already getting rowdy and grinding to some strong dance beat.

"Go get 'em," he tells her with a smile. "I'll be in this general area if you need me."

She smiles back gratefully and makes her way over to the crowd of dancing students. Several people do a double take as she crosses their paths and she starts getting into her rhythm.

Quinn closes her eyes and tilts her head back, letting the bass beat consume her senses.

_It's time to start a new chapter. Just let go_.

She reassures herself that this is what's best for her. It's time to move on.

Then she lifts her arms above her head, spins, and moves her hips to the beat. The thump of the dance music invades her ears, and she recognizes a remixed version of a Flo Rida song blasting through the speakers.

Well, it is a college party. There wasn't much hope for originality in music.

But it's got a decent beat, and that's all she needs right now.

_Look at the lights and how they're shouting my naaaame._

She lowers one hand to run through her own hair as she dips to sway her hips in a wider arc.

_You know you know you're gonna feeeeel the saaaameeee._

"Who are you?" A bold guy approaches her and breathes the question against her ear, looking down her neck at her chest as he does so.

"No one who's interested," she replies back, the buzz of the alcohol eliminating the edge of awkwardness to this situation.

She turns in time to the beat, subtly shifting out of his close proximity.

"Is that so?" he asks in what appears to be an attempt at sounding smooth. Maybe it would work on another girl.

"Yep," she replies shortly, turning her eyes away from him in the hope that he'll take the hint.

"Just give me one dance. I bet I could be your type." He invades her personal space again, and tries to place his hand against her hip.

"I doubt it," she responds, shrugging off his hand.

"Why's that?" he breathes against her, still not backing off.

She fights the urge to roll her eyes, and instead looks at him and asks bluntly, "Do you have a penis?"

His mouth drops open at her bold question, and she sees the mild anger flit across his face.

Note to self: guys don't like when you question their manhood.

"Then go away."

He scampers off and Quinn laughs, tossing her hands in the air and shaking her head to the beat.

Santana Lopez would be so fucking proud.

She always did say that Quinn gets more interesting with liquor in her system.

**XXxxXX**

The same girl has caught her eye three different times now. She's pretty much dancing solo like Quinn is, with the occasional dance partners coming and going.

Two songs have gone by since she started noticing this, and Quinn finally decides to just go for it.

After all, this is why she's here. Even though she isn't one hundred percent sure that the girl has been checking her out, she's got enough confidence and alcohol coursing through her body to maneuver her dancing in that direction.

The driving beat of a Gaga song begins to thump through the speakers, and she continues to dance, now in close proximity to the girl.

She catches the girl glancing at her ass, and now there's no doubt-

She can go for it.

Quinn pivots to the beat gracefully, spinning around so that she's standing behind this girl with the gorgeous caramel skin and slinky purple dress. She places her hands lightly against the girl's hips, but keeps a small amount of space between them still, standing slightly off center so that the girl can see Quinn's face in her peripheral.

"Hi," Quinn speaks low against her ear, and places her hands and little more firmly against the girl's waist.

"Hi," the girl mimicks back, smiling coyly at her.

"Dance with me?" she can taste the tequila on her tongue as she breathes her question against the back of the girl's neck.

She doesn't give any verbal response, but instead pushes herself back into Quinn, eliminating the space between them as she begins to move against Quinn's front to the beat. .

Quinn grips her waist with confidence now, twisting and pulling them to the beat. The girl in front of her lifts one arm up to wrap behind Quinn's neck, and she leans forward in response.

She's now got a perfect view of the girl's chest. And okay, yeah, she's never objectively thought about boobs in general before. I mean, she's got her own pair, and it really shouldn't be that significant.

Except she can see the outline of a black lace bra too, and she feels her lower abdomen clench tightly in response.

This girl looks nothing like Rachel, and right now that's the greatest blessing.

It also doesn't hurt that this girl's got skin like freaking Halle Berry or something. Seriously, she's fighting the urge to just lick at the skin along this girl's neck right now.

She thinks that might be a little forward for halfway through their first song, so instead she grazes her nose along the skin where her neck meets her shoulder and inhales her floral scent.

" _Fuck_ ," she hears the girl exhale right next to her in response to Quinn's actions, and Quinn smiles into her skin, running her fingers up and down her side with her left hand.

"What's your name?" Quinn mumbles against her skin.

"Olivia. You?" she replies over the beat of the music.

Quinn pauses for a moment, letting her nose linger along the girl's hairline right behind her ear. She needs to maintain some kind of distance in this, because tonight is just about letting loose and moving on. It sure as hell isn't going to be physical distance, so she settles for emotional distance instead.

"Call me Q," she breathes right along her ear.

She feels the slight shaking of Olivia's torso as she laughs lightly.

"You tryin' to be all mysterious on me?" She turns her head a little to look at Quinn with a broad smile.

Quinn smiles in response. "No, I promise it's a common nickname for me."

"If you say so, Q," Olivia answers with a wink, then pulls Quinn's neck forward again so that her head is resting along Olivia's shoulder.

Quinn takes that as her invitation, and begins pressing feather-light kisses along her shoulder, barely creating any pressure. She keeps her hands locked against Olivia's waist, and dips down slightly, swerving her hips around and bringing Olivia with her.

Tequila, mixed with this girl's positive reactions to her movements, have kept any traces of awkwardness at bay.

She increases the pressure of her lips as her mouth gets closer to Olivia's neck, and the girl readily tilts her head to the side to provide Quinn with optimal access.

Quinn smirks against her skin, while the song transitions to a different tune. It's crystal clear that they're nowhere near finished though.

" _God_ ," she hears the girl mumble shakily as Quinn lets her tongue peek out for the first time when she presses another kiss along her neck.

When she hears the girl exhale the faintest of moans, there's no longer a trace of doubt in her mind-

She is completely gay.

Because that is the sexiest fucking thing she has ever heard.

Quinn thinks back to her first party of the semester, when that random girl took control with her out on the dance floor.

That was sexy.

But this right here, having a beautiful girl unravel against her as she willingly lets Quinn take control-

This is sexy beyond measure.

She's always been one for control. Apparently some things never change.

**XXxxXX**

They're in a more secluded part of the dancing area now, and really this can't even be described as dancing anymore.

Her tongue is tangled languidly with the other girl's, and Quinn's got her pressed intimately against the wall.

She's not exerting much force but her whole body is leaning against the lithe body in front of her, and she's keeping her left hand against the wall for support while her other hand tangles in thick wavy hair.

She finally gets what the big deal about making out is.

Everything happened so fast with that girl the first time, that the kissing part of it all was nothing but a blur.

But right now, with her teeth gently pulling against Olivia's lower lip, she gets it. For the first time, this is making her want  _more_ , rather than search for an excuse to stop.

"Let's go somewhere," Olivia echoes her thoughts, mumbling against her mouth.

Quinn nods in agreement and softly asks where.

"C'mon, we'll just go upstairs." Olivia tangles her fingers with hers and guides her through the crowd toward one of the staircases.

She's so caught up in the fact that this is actually  _happening_  that she barely notices Jordan as they pass by the other part of the room.

Olivia is already a couple steps ahead and doesn't notice, but Quinn watches his face break into a broad grin as he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She tosses a wink back at him for good measure and follows Olivia up the staircase.

"In here."

Olivia pulls her into a random bedroom, and maybe if she were sober and not insanely horny she might protest hooking up in a random frat guy's room.

But the buzz of the alcohol, combined with the obvious benefits of finding a private locked room without having to walk somewhere else on campus, makes any protests die in her throat.

Once the door is securely locked, Quinn spins around and presses her against the door, taking control again. She swipes her tongue into her mouth without hesitation and curls her fingers around the hair at the base of the girl's neck.

She feels Olivia's moan vibrate against her, and she tears her mouth away, moving down to plant wet kisses against her neck.

"Ugh, get this off," the girl mumbles as she pulls at the zipper of her own dress.

Quinn swallows and only hesitates a moment before pulling swiftly on the girl's zipper and allowing her dress to pool on the floor.

Holy  _shit_.

She dives back in against the girl's neck before she can get too distracted by all the nakedness and look like an inexperienced idiot.

Quinn closes her eyes as she nibbles against the girl's neck so that she can collect herself and focus.

But that's her ultimate downfall.

Because she hears breathy whimpers against her ear, and feels smooth skin against her palms, and her brain begins to conjure images that don't match with reality.

The sensations become dissociated from the girl, and when she hears her moan out the letter Q, the voice morphs into something familiar within her mind and her heart races.

_What's your type?_

Kiss.

_You're beautiful, Quinn._

Kiss.

_You're gonna find a girl some day._

Soft bite.

_You're still my best friend._

Quinn yanks her eyes open and steps away from Olivia, inhaling a shaky breath.

"Q? What is it?" The girl questions.

Her mouth opens to reassure this girl, to tell her that she's fine, that she just needs a second.

But instead she feels her head shake back and forth.

"I can't do this."

Olivia frowns at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm so sorry," Quinn mumbles shakily. "I thought I was ready, that I could move on. But I can't." She feels her eyes sting with rapidly approaching tears.

"Not ready for a rebound?" Olivia looks at her in mild understanding.

"Something like that," she mutters in response.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on. You're gorgeous, Olivia. Maybe if the circumstances were different…" Quinn sentence trails off as she ducks her head in guilt and embarrassment.

"I get it. I won't lie and say I'm not disappointed, because you're sexy as hell. But I get it."

Olivia bends down to pull up her dress again and zips it up, then reaches over to the desk in the room and grabs a pen off the surface.

'Well, if the circumstance ever  _is_  different," she writes her digits clearly across Quinn's palm, "give me a call."

Quinn nods and watches Olivia smile softly at her before exiting the room.

Her attempt to move past her feelings for Rachel and start the next chapter of her life has officially failed.

Moving on just feels impossible, especially when there is so much that's still left unsaid. Dr. Carlton's words from earlier this week ring in her ear.

_You've got two options at this point, Quinn._

Now she's only got one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First song that was alluded to was a remix of Good Feeling by Flo Rida. The Gaga song that was mentioned was Heavy Metal Lover when I imagined the scene in my head. Including the lyrics fragmented the scene in a way that I didn't like, so I got rid of them.


	21. Chapter 21

" _Hi, it's Rachel. I'm unavailable to take your call right now, but please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as possible. Thanks!"_

A dial tone quickly follows the pre-recorded message and she stumbles her way into leaving a voicemail.

"Umm, hi. Hey, it's me. I was just calling because, well, because we haven't really talked much since you left. I also have something kinda exciting to tell you. So yeah…ummm, I'm sure you're busy so just call me back when you get the chance, okay? …Hope you're having a good week. Bye, Rach."

Quinn exhales in relief once she hangs up the call and drops her head against her arms on the table.

"You always that awkward with voicemails?" Jordan asks with amusement as he looks up from his  _Democracy in Peril_  textbook.

She scowls and takes a sip of her latte.

"No! Ugh…" she huffs in frustration. "When did it become so freaking difficult to call my best friend?"

"I'm assuming sometime after you tried to kiss her, from what I understand," Jordan replies without even looking up from his book.

"Ha ha,  _not_  funny," Quinn snarks back and highlights another  _Midsummer Night's Dream_  quote from the study guide for her midterm.

"So you're really gonna invite her to the fashion show?" Jordan asks, drinking a little more of his tea.

"That's the  _plan_ , at least…" Quinn sighs and sets down her highlighter, resting back in her chair and taking a break from Shakespeare for a few moments.

It's a Wednesday evening and they made a study date at Woodland. Midterms can suck the life out of the most diligent of students, so it's nice to meet up with another person and do work together.

Even if Jordan's reading articles about how democracy doesn't really exist while she re-reads through key scenes of late 16th century literature. It helps to have a friendly face around.

"Okay…so now that I know what the deal with Rachel is, are you gonna tell me what happened with that girl on Saturday?"

Jordan smirks at her and Quinn ducks her head bashfully.

"It's, uhh, really not important anymore. I already told you- I'm not over Rachel. I have to just tell her."

Jordan nods. "No, I got that. That's why you're inviting her to the show this weekend. I meant- what happened with the girl? Did you still hook up with her or did you stop before it happened?"

Quinn arches her eyebrow at him and a hint of a smile plays at her lips. "Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your lesbro! And barely an hour after we got there, you had some hot chick draggin' you up the stairs! C'mon, you gotta fill me in at least a  _little_."

"Lesbro?" Quinn laughs and shakes her head at him.

"Yes, lesbro. Now details, Q…"

Quinn rolls her eyes, but takes another sip of her latte and settles back in her chair comfortably.

"I called it off about a minute after her dress hit the floor."

She manages to maintain eye contact as she tells him, but her cheeks still flush pink.

"Not fair," Jordan sighs. She can see the joking tone in his eyes though.

"What?" Quinn laughs lightly at him in confusion.

"How much game you have without even trying. And it's not even being put to good use. Such a shame…"

He grins at her and Quinn swats at his arm across the table.

"I'm just sayin'," he puts up his hands in surrender and shrugs his shoulders.

"Ugh, you're such a guy." But she says it with a smile and Jordan's kind eyes gleam back at her.

"A guy who should be getting some tips from you, apparently. I mean,  _damn_  Quinn, you sure worked fast!"

Quinn flashes a smirk at him, then settles down and gets a little more serious.

"My  _game_  doesn't matter though if it doesn't help me with Rachel," she admits.

"I guess we'll just have to see how this weekend works out then, huh?"

Quinn chews on her lip in thought and nods.

"I guess we will."

**XXxxXX**

"… _Hope you're having a good week. Bye, Rach."_

Rachel finishes listening to the voicemail, then hangs up to check what time Quinn called.

It was a little over two hours ago. Her phone had been on silent while she studied in the library, and she didn't bother checking it while she was there.

Midterms are slowly eating away her sanity, and it doesn't help that things are currently awkward with the person who normally calms down her stress.

She knows that Quinn will still be awake, so she hits the right speed dial button and raises her phone to her ear while she sets her backpack down on the floor and lays back on her bed.

It rings a couple of times before she hears Quinn's voice come through the speaker.

"Hey! I didn't think I'd be hearing from you tonight at this point," Quinn greets her.

Rachel closes her eyes and relaxes her head back into the pillow, relishing in finally being able to relax after sitting hunched over a desk all evening.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been in the library and my phone was on silent. I have my second midterm tomorrow for my music theory class."

"It's totally fine. I've been studying all evening too, so don't worry about it," Quinn replies in understanding. "How are you?" she hears Quinn ask softly with only the slightest bit of hesitance.

"Stressed," she replies honestly.

"You're gonna do great," Quinn murmurs with warmth. "I know you. I'm sure you're already so prepared for this test. Just relax, Rach."

Quinn's smooth voice wraps around her with reassurance, and she keeps her eyes closed, inhaling a calming breath.

"Thanks," she states quietly.

They sit in silence for a couple of moments and Rachel lets her mind drift as the exhaustion of the day catches up with her.

"So…I, umm, I'm not sure what your exam schedule looks like," Quinn begins slowly. "I understand if you're too busy. But…I wanted to let you know that I agreed to be a model in the Pride fashion show this weekend. And I have an extra ticket, ya know…if you'd be interested in coming."

Rachel blinks her eyes open and feels her body become more alert as Quinn shares this news with her.

"You're gonna do it?" Rachel questions with a smile.

Quinn clears her throat awkwardly. "I umm…yeah, I am. But it's okay if you have tests and stuff. Don't feel obligated or anything."

"No, I think it'll work," Rachel cuts off Quinn's rambling. "I have an exam tomorrow, but my last midterm is a paper and it's not due until next Wednesday. So I think I'll be able to come up this weekend."

"Really?"

Rachel smiles and bites her lip at how unintentionally hopeful Quinn sounds.

"Really. Is the show on Friday or Saturday?"

"Saturday at seven."

"Okay. I'm only asking because I made plans with Naomi and some of her friends for Friday night. Her friend Mitch is a film maker and his documentary is being showcased at this little independent theater on Friday night. I'd totally miss it if there was a conflict with your show. But I'm thinking maybe I could just leave first thing in the morning on Saturday. And I could stay a little later on Sunday, to make up for it. That way your roommate doesn't have to deal with me for two nights either," Rachel explains.

"Umm, I'm sure Jessica wouldn't mind you staying for two nights. But that's totally fine if you've got plans you want to keep on Friday. Quite honestly I'm just glad you can come at all with midterms and everything," she replies.

Rachel sits in comfortable silence for a moment, then smirks as a sudden thought comes to mind.

"Does Santana know you're gonna be modeling men's wear for five hundred people this weekend?" she asks with mirth, smiling as she waits for Quinn's response.

"No!" Quinn exclaims immediately. "And don't you  _dare_  say anything. It'll be all over Facebook otherwise."

Quinn already sounds terrified at just the prospect of it.

"I know, Q. I'm just giving you a hard time." Rachel smiles at the ceiling as Quinn briefly panics.

"I'm serious, Rach. No one in Lima knows much about my new life here. They  _can't_  know," Quinn states quietly.

Rachel frowns at how much Quinn is trying to compartmentalize, to keep her life in New Haven securely stowed away from her past.

"They're going to find out eventually, Quinn…"

Quinn is stoically silent on the other line.

"What exactly do you plan to say when you come home for Thanksgiving?"

"Nothing," Quinn says stonily. "I'll wear the perfect dainty dress and talk about my ivy league literature classes."

Rachel exhales in frustration and rubs at her forehead.

"And what if your family asks about boys?"

Quinn is quiet for a moment before finally sighing tiredly, "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Fine," Rachel gives in and agrees. "But you're gonna have to deal with it soon. Thanksgiving break is only a couple weeks away."

"I know. So Saturday?" Quinn redirects the conversation.

"Saturday. I'll take one of the earlier buses and get there by lunchtime. I'll text you as soon as I have my bus schedule figured out, okay?"

"Okay. I'm gonna go review a little more of my notes before bed. We'll talk soon."

"Alright." Rachel sits up and prepares to disconnect the call.

"And Rach?"

She pressed the speaker back against her ear. "Yeah?"

"You'll do great tomorrow. I know it," Quinn tells her confidently.

"Thanks. Bye, Q."

"'Night."

Rachel smiles softly and sets her phone down on the nightstand, moving over to her dresser to change into her pajamas.

Fifteen minutes later, when she's finishing her nighttime routine, Naomi slides her key into the lock and enters the room.

"Hey," she greets Rachel with a tired smile.

"Hey. You get your painting finished in time?"

Naomi nods and sets her messenger bag down by her desk. "Yep. You ready for your big test tomorrow?"

Rachel nods nervously. "I think so."

Naomi looks over at her and sees the tension and stress in Rachel's posture as she powers down her computer.

She steps up behind her and places her hand on Rachel's shoulder until she turns around.

"You'll be fine," Naomi reassures and looks into her eyes. Rachel nods, but doesn't seem to really be listening.

She always did get awful test anxiety.

"Come here," Naomi says kindly and pulls Rachel into a comforting hug. "Just relax and try to get some sleep, okay?" she speaks against her ear and squeezes her arms once before disentangling herself from Rachel.

She forces herself to take a deep calming breath, then exhales slowly.

"Yeah, okay."

**XXxxXX**

It doesn't take long for her to realize that Mitch is genuinely talented. His documentary about the Amish community near his hometown is insightful and not clichéd or inaccurate like it so easily could have been.

Naomi explained that over the summer, the state of Pennsylvania and the Amish community granted them permission to document footage of various aspects of the daily lives of two eighteen year old Amish students.

Their lives are juxtaposed with the lives of two freshman students here in New York at the school of art and design.

It provides an interesting perspective on just how much your environment can affect how you see the world, even of you're united under the commonality of living in the Unites States.

When the credits of the film conclude, Rachel stands and claps along with everyone else. Most people gather their belongings and make their way out of the theater, while some approach the various people who were involved in the project.

"Where to now?" Rachel looks over her shoulder at Naomi as they move towards the exit.

"Mitch has to stay and talk with people. But the rest of us thought it might be cool to head over to the east village. Kiera's boyfriend is in a band that's playing a set tonight, and we thought we might go check 'em out."

"You want to go to a live show?" Rachel looks at her in surprise.

"If you're up for it."

Rachel smiles and nods. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

Tonight is really one of the first nights that she is going out into the city and doing different things. It's a little bit out of her comfort zone, but at least she knows Naomi and that makes her more relaxed.

She's really making an effort to branch out and meet new people, and going out more on weekends is a part of that.

Naomi pulls her through the crowd over to three people that she hasn't met before.

"Rach, this is Kiera, Luke, and AJ," Naomi introduces her friends. "Kiera and AJ are at school with me, and Luke's at NYU. Guys, this is my roommate Rachel."

"You're at NYU?" Rachel asks as she waves at them in greeting. "How do know each other then?"

"Mitch and I went to high school back in Philly together. We ended up at college in the same city."

Rachel nods in understanding and smiles kindly at all of them. At least no one has made fun of her yet, so things are off to a good start.

"You guys ready to head over to the gig?" Kiera asks. Everyone else agrees and they make their way towards to subway stop together.

"Just have fun tonight, Rach. These people are all super nice," Naomi assures against her ear as they walk down the stairs to get to the station.

Rachel smiles in nervous excitement and nods.

As they stand along the tracks and wait for their subway to arrive, Luke turns toward her to make conversation.

"So what are you studying at NYADA?"

He's got toned upper arms and a kind smile, and Rachel smiles shyly at him.

"Musical theater. I plan to be on Broadway someday," she tells him, trying to speak casually and with confidence.

"Oh, wow. You must be good then. I've heard NYADA is crazy competitive too."

She nods and ducks her head for a moment before looking back at him. "So what about you? What are you studying, Luke?"

"Environmental science. I'm really interested in sustainability projects in urban places, especially since I grew up in Philadelphia and now I'm here for school."

Rachel eyes widen slightly in surprise, and she smiles at him, impressed. "That's really cool. I've always had a heart for the environment, but more from the animal perspective. I'm a vegan."

Luke's eyes light up at that. "For real? Good for you! I managed to go vegan for about two months before I finally caved and went back to vegetarian. I couldn't handle the no dairy."

"You're a vegetarian?" Rachel asks him with interest.

"Since I was fifteen, yeah."

They hear the tell-tale rumble of the approaching subway, and a moment later the train is screeching to a stop in front of them.

"After you," Luke gestures as the doors ding and slide open. Rachel smiles at him and enters the car, grabbing one of the railings for support as the train takes off again.

She catches Naomi's eye from the other side of the same train car, and Naomi raises her eyes in question at her, tilting her head toward Luke.

Rachel bites her lip shyly and shrugs in response, a silent communication to her roommate.

When their subway reaches the next stop, a group of four people with a large stereo step on board and start playing a dance song really loudly. Some of the tourists who aren't as used to these impromptu performances watch with interest, while others continue to stare ahead in their seats.

Rachel's eyes light up and she laughs as the three dancers start moving up and down the enclosed space gracefully, spinning around available railings and jumping up on empty seats.

She recognizes the song from one of the playlists that Quinn made for her over the summer when they went on their road trip to the lake. She can tell it's a Robyn song and she remembers a lot of the lyrics, but she can't remember the name

Naomi seems to recognize it to, and all of a sudden she's pointing boldly at Rachel across the car with a goofy face and singing out the next lyric at her.

" _And if you do me right, I'm gonna do right by you. And if you keep it tight, I'm gonna confide in yooouuu. I know what's on your mind there will be time for that to…"_

Nobody in their subway car seems to care anymore than they did a moment ago, and the dancers are smiling now that other people recognize the song and are getting into it.

Naomi does a little groove across the car, and grips the railing tightly as she spins around, shouting out the lyrics at Rachel.

Rachel tosses her head back and laughs, then gives in and joins her. Tonight is about having fun and meeting new people, so that's what she's going to do.

" _If you haaaanngggg with me_ ," Rachel belts out the remainder of the line with a wide smile on her face.

" _Just don't fall recklessly heedlessly in love with me, 'cause it's gonna be..."_  They sing out together as Naomi jumps up on an empty seat.

" _A heaaaaartbreaaaak blissfully painful insanityyyy… if we agreeeee…ohhh ohh you can haaanng with meeeee…"_

The song transitions into its dance beat again, and when the next verse begins, the subway screeches to a stop. The dancers immediately exit the car and move on to the car in front of them, collecting a couple of tips as they go.

Naomi hops down from the seat and settles against one of the railings, making sure she has her footing before the train takes off again.

Luke is smiling at her and laughing from his spot near the door where he watched the whole scene play out.

Rachel feels a lightness settle in her chest that is rarely there, a completely unhindered happiness that results from having fun and just flat out letting go. A year ago she never could have imagined herself doing something like that. She would have been the girl sitting in her seat and staring at the ridiculous college students with disdain.

Now she  _is_  the ridiculous college student.

And it feels way better than she ever expected it would.

**XXxxXX**

The band that Kiera's boyfriend leads isn't half bad. It's probably not a group that she would willingly put on her ipod. But for a live show, it's fun and she's surrounded by fun people.

Naomi leans against a post next to her, sipping at her Dr. Pepper as Rachel continues to talk with Luke over the noise.

Luke is actually…really cool.

But not cool in the McKinley High set standard of cool kind of way. He's cool because he's interesting, and he shares a lot of commonalities with her. Conversation flows easily, and she doesn't even have to pretend to be interested when he talks about apartment complexes that have started using their roofs to grow vegetable gardens in the city.

She's genuinely interested in what Luke is saying, and having an intelligent conversation with a guy who shares her interests is not something that she's used to.

But he's talking to her with ease, and actually  _listening_  to her comments, and for once in her life she isn't internally obsessing over making sure to say the right thing to a guy.

It's…natural.

And the fact that it's natural feels incredibly  _unnatural_  to her.

When they leave the concert a couple hours later, Luke offers his hand as she steps up to the sidewalk from the staircase that led to the performance area slightly below ground.

He offers his hand to make sure she doesn't trip up the metal stairs, and when she's on solid concrete again, she finds that her hand is still wrapped lightly in his.

Luke makes no move to let go of her hand, but keeps his grip loose, leaving the choice up to her.

Luke is intelligent and interesting, and unlike any guy she's ever really met. So she shifts her hand slightly and laces her fingers with his.

He keeps his grip light, maintaining their handhold casually as they walk back to the subway station together.

She catches Naomi glancing at her for a moment, and she thinks she might detect a slight frown, but Naomi is facing forward again before she can be sure.

They reach their transfer stop a few minutes later, and they all exit the train.

Luke has kept her hand linked warmly with his for the entire train ride, and she feels her heart beating a little faster than normal.

She isn't nervous like she normally would be- nervous to say the wrong thing, nervous to make the wrong move, nervous to accidentally embarrass the guy with her.

It's a new kind of nervous, an excited nervous that settles in her chest and flutters inside her with a newborn anticipation of things to come.

"Well, this is where I leave you. I have to take a different line than you guys to get back to NYU."

Rachel feels a slight disappointment settle in her when she realizes that her time with this new person is up. At least it was nice while it lasted.

"Do you think…would you be interested in meeting up with me again? Just the two of us?" Luke asks her, their interlaced fingers resting in the empty space between them.

Rachel bites her lip and looks up at him shyly. "Like, on a date you mean?"

Luke smiles at her kindly and nods his head. "Like on a real date."

The fluttering in her chest rapidly increases and the nervous excitement multiplies. Here is this intelligent attractive guy who wants to go on a date with  _her_. And she's reasonably certain that he isn't just messing with her.

"I'd like that," she tells him softly in response, cheeks tinted pink.

Luke lets go of her hand and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

"What's your last name Rachel?" he asks, clicking buttons on the screen a couple of times.

"Berry."

"Like the fruit?" he smiles, looking up from the screen.

Rachel bites her lip and nods. "Like the fruit."

"Okay Rachel Berry like the fruit, what's your number?"

She laughs lightly and gives him her cell phone number so that he can contact her later. When he finishes entering her contact information, he pockets his phone again.

Rachel stands there somewhat awkwardly, unsure what they're supposed to do now.

But Luke seems to settle that for her, when he reaches up slowly and gently rests his hand against her cheek.

He strokes his thumb once lightly, before leaning in to press a light chaste kiss to her lips.

She raises up on her feet slightly to meet him halfway, and she feels warm lips connect with hers for just a brief moment before they're gone.

"I'll call you, Rachel," he says with a smile.

She manages to knock herself out of her stupor enough to nod and softly answer with an, "Okay."

Luke squeezes her hand once in farewell, and then he's walking away to get to his connecting train.

Once he's gone, Naomi approaches her and sees Rachel standing there smiling, lip caught between her teeth.

"What just happened tonight?" Naomi questions with slight disbelief.

Rachel grins and ducks her head sheepishly before rising again to meet Naomi's eyes.

"I really don't know," she states softly, as if she can hardly believe it herself.

Naomi watches the giddy excitement flicker across Rachel's face and dread settles in her stomach.

All she can think of is Quinn.

And how Quinn has officially waited too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song from the subway is "Hang With Me" by Robyn


	22. Chapter 22

"This is it. No more running. No more hiding. Time to come clean. Today. You're doing it today."

Quinn states the mantra of clipped sentences at her own reflection, steeling her gaze at the mirror in front of her. Today is the day when the lies and the half truths end. Today is the day when she moves forward, for better or for worse.

Rachel's bus is due to arrive on campus in twenty minutes, and she checks her reflection one last time before grabbing her purse and locking up her dorm room on the way out.

Jordan is aware of everything that's happening today. He had to be. Because otherwise she probably would have had a nervous breakdown by now.

As it is, he spent the evening with her last night watching FRIENDS reruns in the Branford lounge with her to keep her distracted until she finally got tired.

Everything about today needs to go well. And a huge part of that means rocking the fashion show.

If she can get Rachel can see this sexier more confident side of Quinn first, then maybe she won't realize quite how terrified Quinn is to talk to her.

Maybe her confidence on the runway will somehow carry over into her conversation with Rachel.

It's funny to think how recently the prospect of participating in this fashion show made her break out into a nervous sweat. But now the fashion show is actually the part of tonight that she's looking forward to the most.

Rocking slacks and a bowtie on the catwalk is easy in comparison to what she has to do after. Suddenly the thought of modeling in front of hundreds of people isn't phasing her much anymore.

There's still a nervousness there, but it's a nervous  _excitement_ , not dread.

The thought of modeling for hundreds isn't what has her heart racing when it's barely even lunchtime.

Knowing that she has to talk to a certain person after the modeling though-

She feels like it's already giving her heart palpitations.

Quinn forces herself to take a calming breath as she crosses the front courtyard of Branford, making her way to the other side of campus where Rachel's bus will be arriving.

She has a plan though, and at least there's a sliver of comfort in that. Last night, Jordan agreed to her idea.

If Quinn's going to be showing off her sexy confident side for Rachel, and a few hundred other irrelevant people, then she wants it to be personal in some small way.

That's where Jordan becomes a crucial part of this.

Because he has the ultimate say in what music is played during the show.

**XXxxXX**

The bus ride feels like it went by so much faster than usual. But that's probably because she slept a good portion of the ride this time.

She didn't get back to her dorm room with Naomi until a little after one in the morning, and even then it took her a little time to calm her racing mind and actually fall asleep.

She met a guy last night. An attractive, quite intelligent guy. Who also happens to be a vegetarian.

She smiles and bites her lip, staring out the window as more New England scenery flashes before her eyes.

Luke has her contact information, and it's all up to him. Rachel wouldn't be able to contact him even if she wanted to.

All she knows is his first name and the memory of gentle lips connecting with hers briefly in the subway tunnel at Union station.

Her bus reaches the terminal shortly after entering the New Haven city limits, and she grabs her bags and exits along with everyone else. Now she just has to wait for the local city bus to arrive to take her to the Yale campus.

She sits on one of the benches at the bus terminal and thinks about the events of last night.

How is it that she has managed to get a potential date with an awesome guy?

How does she have a potential date before  _Quinn_  does? That's just ridiculous.

It's like suddenly the roles are reversed and Quinn is embracing the single life while Rachel is the one venturing into the dating game.

Quinn could have anyone she wanted, especially now that she's becoming more comfortable with her sexuality.

With Quinn, it's never a matter of whether or not someone wants her, but rather whether or not  _she_  is interested in a person.

For whatever reason, Quinn is choosing to embrace the single life. And who knows? Maybe that's the best thing for her right now.

But just because Quinn is single doesn't mean that Rachel can't celebrate in her potential dating life.

She's  _excited_  about this Luke guy, in a way that she hasn't been before. And it's perfect that the timing of it all worked out so that she can actually  _be_  with Quinn when she shares this recent development in her personal life.

Plus, even though Quinn is totally gay now, she's probably got some excellent advice on first dates with guys.

Rachel never quite had to deal with that in high school. The whole Finn thing just kind of happened over time. It wasn't until they had been "together" for a while that they did any activities resembling actual dates.

So she really has no idea what she's doing. And she wonders nervously-

Don't college guys have a different level expectations?

**XXxxXX**

This time, she makes sure that she is waiting at the bus stop when Rachel arrives.

And even though her heart is already beating out of her chest at just the thought of the things to come, she can't help but smile widely when Rachel steps off the bus with her backpack and little suitcase.

Unlike when she was here a couple of weeks ago, the first snow has finally happened. It blew in on Thursday, and the campus has been an icy white landscape ever since.

Rachel must have checked the weather beforehand this time, because she is wearing a warm coat, gloves, and an adorable cream-colored knit hat.

She approaches Quinn differently than the other times, not with hesitance but not in a tackling embrace either. They've done this a few times now, and there is a sort of familiarity to these reunions that happen every few weeks.

Rachel lets her suitcase roll to a stop beside her, and wipes a few strands of hair out of her face as a gust of chilly wind blows through.

Her cheeks have a slight flush from the cold and her eyes are lit up in happiness.

She looks…beautiful. And so very kissable.

Quinn is not about to let  _that_  trainwreck happen again though.

Instead she steps up to Rachel and holds out her arms, warmly embracing her.

"Hi," she smiles into Rachel's hair, squeezing her arms lightly around her waist.

She feels the pressure of Rachel's hands against her shoulder blades as she briefly squeezes back.

"Hi," Rachel reciprocates brightly, stepping out of Quinn's embrace with a bright smile on her face. "There's snow!" She exclaims the obvious with excitement, looking around at the Yale campus.

Quinn's eyes light up in response to Rachel's infectious joy and she laughs. "Yes, there's snow."

Rachel scrunches her nose at Quinn adorably and takes a moment to actually look at her.

"It's been a long two weeks. I missed you," Rachel says warmly.

Quinn feels hope settle in her chest, hope that things might not be as awkward with them as she thought.

"You did?" Quinn ducks her head briefly, then looks back up at Rachel with a barely contained grin on her face.

"What do you mean? Of course I did!" Rachel furrows her eyebrows slightly as she looks at Quinn in confusion.

"I just…wasn't sure. After everything that happened last time. I, ummm…" Quinn's sentence trails off into a mumble.

Rachel shakes her head at Quinn and rolls her eyes before pulling her into another hug.

"Yes, I  _missed_  you," she emphasizes the truth of her words by gripping Quinn's shoulders a little tighter before pulling away.

Quinn feels her heartbeat flutter at Rachel's genuine happiness to be here, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

If her visit doesn't start off awkward, that will make the rest of this weekend  _so_  much easier.

"So did you have a good trip up here?" Quinn asks, lifting Rachel's suitcase so it doesn't get dragged through the half-melted snow.

"I did!" Rachel links her arm lightly in Quinn's free one and begins the walk across the campus green to return to Branford. Even if this is only her second visit, something about it just feels so much more natural this time. She knows this campus now. It's like a second home on the east coast, another place that feels comfortable and familiar.

"I slept most of the first bus ride because I didn't get to bed until after one last night."

"Woah! I thought you were just going to a film screening." Quinn looks over at her in surprise as they turn onto another walkway that directs toward the center of campus.

"We did. I went out to a live show afterwards though. One of Naomi's friends has a boyfriend who is in a band and we went to see them perform," Rachel explains.

"Night out on the town?" Quinn looks at her with a smile. "Good! I'm glad you're getting out more. New York City just has so much to offer."

"It does," she agrees. "That's why I made a resolution to start doing more stuff on the weekends when I'm there."

"That's great, Rach. So how was the concert thing? Was the band any good?"

"Eh, they were alright. Nothing particularly notable. I had a really great time though. We went with three of Naomi's friends, so it wasn't just the two of us. They were a fun group."

Quinn looks over at Rachel and sees the happiness written clearly across her face. Something that feels like relief settles into her body, and she realizes just how much she's been hoping for Rachel to make friends.

Rachel has enjoyed NYADA so far, but she never really mentions different people when they talk. With Quinn away in a different state, it's a relief to hear that Rachel is finally making more friends and going out on weekends.

"And I have something exciting to tell you," Rachel smiles and bites her lip, but ducks her head in sudden shyness.

Quinn looks at her curiously, pulling her keycard out of her purse and letting the both of them into her dorm.

"You do?" she questions, trying not to let her curiosity reveal itself too much.

Rachel sighs happily as they walk through the gorgeous foyer and study lounges of Brandord before making their way over to the staircase.

"Uh-huh," she replies coyly, continuing up the stairs.

"Well are you gonna tell me or are you gonna keep being a tease?" Quinn huffs when she reaches the top of the stairs, Rachel already a few steps ahead of her and walking towards Quinn's door.

"As soon as you let me put my stuff down."

"Says the girl who's only carrying her backpack," Quinn retorts and rolls her eyes, setting Rachel's suitcase down so that she can unlock the door.

Rachel steps easily into the room, pushing the door open as soon as it's unlocked, and Quinn follows directly behind her with the suitcase.

"So?" she asks with lingering impatience, dropping Rachel's bags down by her desk.

Rachel looks around at Quinn's walls and desk for a moment, as if recapturing this home away from home, before turning to look at Quinn with a bashful smile on her face.

"I met someone last night."

Quinn's full attention immediately snaps into focus and she feels her heart rate pick up several beats. She looks at Rachel's face, searching for any other conclusion than the one already creeping into her mind.

"Someone?" Quinn manages to question neutrally.

"Yeah," Rachel bites on her lip and fidgets, shrugging off her winter coat now that they're out of the cold. "I met a guy last night. His name is Luke. He's majoring in environmental science at NYU."

She feels the muscles in her hands begin to tremble and she clenches her fists to make it stop, trying to force air through her rapidly constricting lungs.

This can't be happening. Not today. Not when she's  _so_  fucking close.

"What happened?" She's proud of how little her voice cracks with the question.

"I was at the concert with him and we talked pretty much the entire time. He's such an interesting guy, Quinn! He's really interested in sustainability projects on cities and stuff and we were talking about a bunch of different environmental issues. I told him I was a vegan, and found out he's actually a vegetarian."

_No no no no._

The mantra of steady denial pulses through her veins.

"He, ummm…" Rachel pauses and ducks her head shyly, "He kissed me when we said goodbye. He asked for my number, said he wants to take me out on a real date. Can you believe that?"

She finally looks up to meet Quinn's eyes fully, cheeks tinted pink in shy excitement.

Quinn watches the way her eyes light up, the way she excitedly recounts the details of last night. She sees the shy blush tint her cheeks as she bashfully talks about this new boy.

And every one of her hopes for today shatters into tiny stabbing shards.

She clenches her eyes shut for the briefest moment, muscles going rigid as she forces away the impulse to completely fall apart in front of Rachel.

She builds up a wall like never before, one welded with solid steel. She puts the mask firmly in place.

Then-

"That's great, Rachel."

Small quirk of lips into a semi-formed smile.

Brief hug in celebration.

"I'm happy for you."

Dry eyes.

Calm demeanor.

Supportive attitude.

Rachel watches Quinn's subtle shift in mood, trying to understand the sudden hardness in her eyes. Something isn't right.

"Really?" she questions self-consciously.

Quinn blinks a few times to focus her attention and clears her throat.

She breathes deeply and then gives Rachel a full smile.

"Really," she reassures. "That's great."

Quinn lets her gaze flicker around the room for a moment, before conjuring an out.

"Hey, so we have a run-through for the fashion show in an hour and half, and I need to shower first. So I'm gonna go do that, and you can relax and go on the computer or whatever. Then we can grab some lunch together before we head over to the grand ballroom for rehearsals."

The rehearsals part isn't the lie.

It's the fact that she already showered a couple of hours ago.

"Okay," Rachel agrees with only the slightest bit of hesitance. Quinn is still acting sort of weird, but maybe she's just getting nervous about the show later.

Quinn nods and gathers her shower caddy, towel, and change of clothes. She also grabs her cell phone, more on instinct than anything. It's some kind of tangible lifeline right now, at least.

Rachel unzips her backpack to pull out her computer and Quinn clicks the door shut behind her, walking swiftly towards the community bathroom.

There are four shower stalls and all of them are blessedly empty. Most people who shower in the morning have already completely their daily routine.

She clicks the lock shut on the changing stall connected to her shower. A shower curtain separates the small area of space to change and hang up clothes from the actual shower stall.

All of her movements are mechanical, automatic. She doesn't allow reality to attack her yet.

Instead, she shrugs off her clothes and slips on her flip flops, stepping into the shower area and turning the water on. She pushes the lever until the blasting water pressure settles on a hot temperature that stings at her skin.

She ducks her head under the spray, drowning out her senses in the steady stream of water.

Water hits against her back, scalding hot rivulets running across her abdomen and down her thighs.

_I met someone last night._

The steam clouds up around her.

_He kissed me._

Water trickles along her toes, disappearing down the drain.

_He wants to take me out on a real date._

Trembling hands reach for her shampoo bottle.

_Can you believe that?_

The bottle drops to the floor with a clatter, and she lowers herself to the tile, no longer able to remain standing through the trembling.

She feels the sobs begin to wrack her body, beating through her unrelenting, and she closes in on herself.

She wraps her arms tightly around her wet calves and buries her face against her knees.

The curtain of steadily falling water clothes her like rain, and tears become indistinguishable from the water falling down around her.

That was a tip Santana taught her, in a brief act of mercy and kindness.

" _Whenever I_ really _need to cry, Q, I go in the shower. It makes you feel less weak. The crying just mixes with the water and you get to watch it all disappear down the drain."_

The irony is that the community bathroom is the only place she  _can_  justifiably go right now.

She clenches her arms around herself, loathing how pathetic she is, how her body is literally shaking with disappointment.

She can try to control her thoughts, but her body is her ultimate betrayer.

Because this reaction is visceral.

And it's one that she can't control.

She was so  _so_  close. So close to having the smallest chance at something she's desperately been wanting for years.

She presses her face harder against her thigh, forcing her lips to stop trembling and remain shut.

This is her chance. This is her opportunity to cry. Because when she renters her dorm room, Rachel can't know that anything is wrong.

So she tosses all pride aside.

And she lets the tears flow.

They're all going to disappear down the drain anyways.

**XXxxXX**

She allows herself fifteen minutes. She knows it's fifteen minutes because she reaches out a shaky hand and checks her cell phone to see the time.

She only allows herself fifteen minutes, because she's going to need to rest of the time to make a phone call.

Quinn shuts the water off and reaches for her towel, patting herself dry before wrapping it tightly around her torso. She sinks to the ground in her little changing stall and scrolls through her phone contacts, wiping at her eyes.

The phone rings a couple of times before she hears an excited voice greeting her. "Hey Quinn! You ready for rehearsals in a bit? Rachel's here now, right?"

"Jordan," she whimpers quietly.

"Quinn?" she hears his worried response immediately, voice increasing in volume. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"No." She shakes her head, gripping at her towel covered knee with her free hand.

"Q, babe, you gotta say something 'cause you're freaking me out."

"I can't tell Rachel tonight," she speaks softly through tears.

"No way, Quinn! You're not wimping out on me now. We talked through all of this last night. You're gonna be a rock star on the runway, and then you're gonna talk to your girl. I'm not letting you back out now," he states adamantly.

"I can't," she chokes in response.

" _Yes_ , you can," he emphasizes in response.

"No. Rachel met a guy last night," she whimpers. "They kissed. He's gonna be calling to ask her out."

Jordan is quiet for a moment before frustratingly exhaling, " _Fuck._ "

"Yeah," Quinn whispers in agreement.

"What do you know about the guy?"

"Not much." She wipes at her eyes, the tears slowly calming now that she's being forced to have an actual conversation. "Just that she met him for the first time last night. They hit it off well. He asked for her number and he kissed her goodnight."

"You know you still gotta tell her tonight, don't you?" Jordan questions calmly.

Quinn scoffs at him in response. " _Right_. Quit fucking with me, Jordan."

"I'm serious! She just met him  _last night_ , Quinn. The dude's got nothing on your relationship with Rachel! So he's got what- A few hours of pleasant conversation and a quick goodnight kiss? You're her  _best friend_! There's no competition."

"It doesn't  _matter_  that she's my best friend!" she bites back. "It doesn't matter because I'm a  _girl_  and I'm  _Quinn_  and that means some guy who's known her for a few hours automatically wins."

"But don't you remember what you told me last night?" he asks with more patience than she deserves.

"What?" she sighs.

"You said that it wasn't even about getting to be with Rachel anymore. It was about her finally knowing the truth, for better or for worse. It doesn't matter if she met a new guy, Quinn. The truth still needs to get out. It needs to get out before it destroys whatever relationship you have left."

She rests her forehead against her knee, shivering a little now that the drops of water on her body have cooled.

"I know. I know what I said, but-"

"But you  _were_  hoping that something good would come of tonight. And now you feel like that possibility has been shot to hell."

She doesn't have to voice her response. Jordan already knows that it's true. There wasn't a fraction of doubt in his claim.

"You're still telling her tonight, Quinn."

She whimpers in resignation.

"The only thing that's different about tonight from before is that telling her just got a lot harder…" he adds.

"No shit."

"I believe in you, Quinn. I believe that you can do this," he states softly.

"I don't."

"Then I'll believe for the both us during the next few hours until you find some courage."

"Okay," she whispers back.

"Where are you right now anyway? Where's Rachel?"

"I'm in the bathroom. I took a shower."

"Please tell me you're not naked right now," Jordan states with fake worry, teasing her.

She knows what he's doing. He's trying to lighten the mood. To psych her up enough to walk back to her dorm room.

And she's incredibly grateful for it.

"Mhmm, I'm all kinds of wet and naked right now," she husks.

"Fucking hell, Quinn! I was teasing! You can't just say shit like that to a dude! It doesn't matter how gay you are! I know I'm you're lesbro, but there is a  _line_!" he yells shrilly.

It actually manages to make her crack a smile.

"You better not be picturing me naked right now," she chastises in a light tone.

"Hey, it is  _your_  fucking fault."

She continues to smile for a few seconds before exhaling a deep breath and standing to gather her things.

"Thank you, Jordan. I owe you," she tells him with sincerity.

"No you don't. I'm here for you. Always. You don't owe me anything."

"Still…thanks."

"Good luck, Quinn. Just try to relax and enjoy your afternoon with Rachel before the show. Remember, it's just a random new guy. One that she hardly knows."

She closely her eyes slowly, trying to let Jordan's word sink into her mind and calm her.

"Yeah okay. Bye, Jordan."

"Bye."

She pulls her clean bra and panties on, then wraps her bathrobe around herself, twisting her towel on top of her head to help dry up her wet hair.

When she returns to her room with her shower caddy, Rachel is laying on her stomach on the bed, looking at something on her laptop.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming back," Rachel looks up at her with a grin.

"Yeah, sorry. It took me a little longer 'cause I had to shave too," she lies.

"Don't worry about it. I was just on youtube watching videos of other gender bender fashion shows," she says with a glimmer in her eye.

"Oh really?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow at her and smirks.

"Yep. So do I get to know what you're wearing tonight or do I have to wait until the show starts?"

Quinn walks over to her closet and shrugs off her robe and towel, letting them drop to the floor while she reaches for her jeans.

"You'll find out tonight," she replies with her back turned, pulling her pants on.

She's just finished buttoning them up, when she hears Rachel speak from the bed again.

"God, you're gorgeous," she states lightly.

Quinn turns sharply to look at her, chest still only covered by her bra.

"What?" She looks at Rachel questioningly, trying to understand.

"Sorry. I just- No filter sometimes. I meant…I was thinking earlier on the bus how you could literally have anyone. But…it's cool if you want to stay single for a while. I get it."

She turns back around, reaching for a long-sleeved sweater and shrugging it over her head.

This is the problem right here. This is why it's so fucking impossible to move on with her life.

Because Rachel talks about dating a new guy, but then she blurts out shit like that while she's standing there topless.

_No filter_  is exactly right.

And Rachel doesn't even realize how much she torments her when she says these things.

"Who says I want to be single?" she asks, turning around to face Rachel now that she is fully dressed.

"Oh…" Rachel looks at her in surprise. "I guess I just assumed since… It all comes so easily for you, Quinn. I figured if you wanted someone, you'd already be with her."

She takes solace in the fact that this verbal game of avoidance, of half truths and changing subjects, ends tonight.

"It'd be nice if it were that simple. But it's not."


	23. Chapter 23

The show is due to start in twenty minutes, and the backstage area is…

Well, it's insanity.

There's models everywhere in various states of dress or undress, some frantically going through last minute outfit checks while others work on their make-up.

If she weren't so caught up in the fact that she's about to model for five hundred people and then confess her love to her best friend afterwards, maybe she'd be a little more distracted by all the half naked women milling around.

Instead, she's sitting in a chair in the corner, listening to her ipod and trying to calm her rapidly increasing heart rate.

Rachel spent a couple of hours exploring New Haven and the Yale campus on her own while Quinn met up with everyone else in the grand ballroom for the show run-through.

They met up again for an early dinner, even though she barely touched her food. Rachel had looked at her with concern, but she assured her that it was just nerves.

She didn't need to know the full reasons for those nerves. Not yet, at least.

Now it's nearly show time, and Jordan isn't around to keep her calm anymore because he's up front in the sound booth.

When her hands start to fidget anxiously, she drops her ipod into her bag and stands up from her chair, resolving to take a quick walk down the hall to calm herself.

Models and Pride alliance volunteers are walking in every single direction, completing their final tasks as the minutes until show time rapidly dwindle.

She wrings her hands together nervously, ducking her head as she pushes her way through the throngs of people.

The people are  _everywhere_  and she just needs to escape it for a minute.

Quinn is finally passing the make-up assembly area when her shoulder collides with someone else roughly in her haste.

"I'm so sorry," she blurts out, jolting her head up to see who she's just collided with.

She raises her gaze and is met with amused brown eyes staring back at her.

"Hmm, I never would've thought you'd be that clumsy. Last I recall, you were pretty damn smooth," the woman teases with a wink.

"O-Olivia. Hey," she greets her with embarrassment. "Sorry. I wasn't really paying attention."

"You can bump into me any time, Q," she replies, voice dripping with innuendo.

Quinn deflects her gaze and coughs awkwardly.

"So you're, uh, in the show?" she tries to force out casually.

Olivia looks at Quinn's nervous posture and laughs warmly. "Yeah, I'm in the show. You're modeling Hayden's semi-formal stuff too, I see."

She watches Olivia's eyes rake down her figure, taking in the fitted black dress slacks and the navy dress shirt, top buttons open to reveal a deep V of smooth skin.

Olivia reaches her hand out and traces her finger down one of the straps of her suspenders, right along the edge of her collar bone.

"God, you're even sexier when I'm sober," she husks appreciatively, slowing drawing her eyes up again to meet Quinn's uncomfortable stare. "And apparently shy, as well," she notes with a smile. "Never would've seen that one coming."

"Yeah, umm…I can't talk right now, Olivia. There's something I need to do before the show starts. Sorry," she gently shrugs Olivia's hand away and steps to move past her.

She's a couple of steps away when she hears Olivia speak behind her.

"You ever gonna call me, Q?" she asks lightly, casual confidence accompanying her teasing.

Quinn turns slightly to face her.

"Depends on how tonight goes."

Olivia quirks a curious eye brow at her. "And what happens tonight?"

"Can't say," Quinn replies softly.

Olivia gives her an amused smirk in response. "You're lucky you're sexy, Q. I wouldn't put up with this coy stuff with anyone else."

Quinn bites her lip and arches her eyebrow in response.

"Good to know."

She turns back around, but looks back over her shoulder one last time.

"And you can call me Quinn."

She barely catches a glimpse of Olivia's satisfied smile as she walks away, finally reaching the edge of the jumbled crowd.

Tonight is about Rachel, about finally sharing the truth.

But if everything happens to crash and burn when the truth gets out-

Well…

It's nice to know she has other options.

Even if they don't measure up to what she really wants.

**XXxxXX**

When the lights go down and the stage lights flash down onto the runway, everyone cheers.

The thumping bass beat of a rhythmic song starts up, and Rachel hears Jordan's voice come through the speakers.

"Welcome to the LGBTQ Pride Alliance gender-bender fashion show of two thousand twelve! We so appreciate your support tonight. Now let's get this show started!"

The music volume increases, and everyone cheers as a few colored lights start flashing on the runway.

Rachel is sitting in a chair about a third of the way back, close enough that she can see the runway pretty well. But there are also huge projection screens on either side of the room, so everyone can see what's happening clearly.

Just like that, the show is off to a start. The first couple of songs feature people who are dressed in full drag, and she cheers along with everyone else as models in elaborate outfits grace the runway.

The crowd is an interesting mix of people, because some of them she actually recognizes from Pride, while others are just a whole variety of people who are here to support the LGBTQ community.

A remixed September song pulses through the speakers, and a drag queen in a wild feather ensemble makes a bold entrance. Rachel laughs and cheers with those around her, standing up from her seat as everyone gets into the songs and the show more.

The guys in front of her are pretty hilarious, and their occasional commentary on things that she overhears makes her laugh.

Nearly half an hour has gone by before there is a longer break between models and the dance song closes out and begins to transition.

It's hard to recognize at first, because Jordan is drawing out the song transition, allowing the models a little bit more time and building up some suspense for the next phase of the show.

But when the song does fully transform, she recognizes it immediately. And she knows that this can't be a coincidence.

Quinn is close friends with Jordan, and this song is all Quinn.

Which means it's time.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn stands directly off the runway, closing her eyes and breathing deeply as she waits for her cue.

Jordan is mixing beats and gradually transitioning into her song. She feels her heart beat wildly against her ribcage as she hears the electronic melodies begin to take shape.

A man with a headset and a walkie-talkie nudges her shoulder and gives her a nod.

It's time.

She pushes every insecurity to the back of her mind, every fear of what could happen later tonight, and she focuses on the fact that she knows she looks damn sexy right now.

The intro electronic riffs of  _Sleepyhead_  by Passion Pit blast through the speakers, and she raises her head, stepping confidently into the spot light in time to the thumping beat.

Her entrance is met with wild cheers, which only spurs her on further.

Rachel listens as the song transforms into her and Quinn's song. It's their dance song. Their happy song. Their 'dance in the kitchen and bake vegan cookies' song.

And Quinn knows it.

She focuses intently on the stage and watches as a young woman in black heels and fitted dress pants, complete with casually rolled up shirt sleeves and a black fedora, struts onto the stage.

There really is no other way to describe how she's walking. It's a  _strut_ , no question about it.

It takes a few seconds to convince her brain that this woman kicking off the next round of the runway show is in fact her best friend.

Her best friend who loves to shop at Anthropologie and wear cardigan sweaters.

She darts her eyes to the projection monitors a couple of times to verify it completely.

This girl, this person striding across the runway with smoldering hazel eyes and looping her thumbs through her suspenders as she reaches the edge of the stage, is definitely the body of her best friend.

Quinn Fabray has always been pretty, one of the prettiest women she's ever met. She is classically beautiful in a way that so many women would give anything to be.

But right now-

Quinn Fabray is  _sexy_.

There really isn't any other adjective that does this current scenario justice.

She is completely and utterly sexy.

And the five hundred people around her all seem to agree, if their crazy cheers are any indication.

Rachel barely has time to take in the image of Quinn Fabray winking from beneath a fedora, before her back is turned away and the next girl is making her entrance.

She sends out a silent prayer that Jordan or  _someone_  just got a picture of that.

Because she doesn't ever want to lose the image of Quinn working a runway in men's wear.

**XXxxXX**

At the end of the show, all of the models walk out again in a steady line, and they're met with a standing ovation from the crowd. She's barely able to spot Quinn in the line before more models move forward and take her place.

The show concludes with the president of Yale's Pride group talking about the Trevor Project and how the funds from tonight's show will benefit LGBTQ youth.

When the lights in the ballroom finally come up, she immediately stands from her chair and moves toward the exit.

Quinn promised to meet her in the east side hallway as soon as she changed back into her regular clothes, and she wants to be there as soon as Quinn is done.

A bunch of people are lingering around, but she moves politely past them, intent on getting to Quinn so she can give that girl a freaking hug and a massive congratulations for how amazing she was tonight.

Because Quinn has come  _so_  far this semester.

And she deserves to be recognized for that.

**XXxxXX**

She places her outfit back on the rack with the others as soon as she's changed back into her jeans and comfy winter coat.

The show was amazing, and it couldn't have gone any better than it did.

Part one of tonight was done.

Now her chest feels like it's caving in, because it's time for part two.

Luke doesn't matter.

Olivia doesn't matter.

All that matters is Rachel. Her and Rachel.

And Rachel  _finally_  knowing the truth.

She takes one last glance at herself in one of the mirrors before waving goodbye to everyone and exiting into the hallway.

Her heart pulses erratically in her chest as she rounds the corner and sees Rachel waiting for her on a bench up ahead.

Rachel jumps up in excitement as soon as she sees her and runs toward her, eyes bright with happiness and excitement.

She feels the steady force of Rachel crashing into her as she literally jumps and squeezes her arms around Quinn's shoulders.

Rachel's warm laughter is against her neck and she wraps her arms firmly around her waist in response, supporting Rachel as she stands on her toes.

"You were amazing!" Rachel squeals against her, giving her shoulders another squeeze before pulling back to look at Quinn with a wide smile. "Seriously, Q, that was incredible. I'm so proud of you!"

Her heart swells and she smiles widely in response, arms still linked around Rachel's waist.

"Thanks, Rach," she answers softly, staring into warm brown eyes that communicate nothing but warmth and acceptance. "I'm glad you liked the show."

Rachel steps out of their embrace, shifting to link arms with Quinn so that they can leave the building together.

"Do you have any idea how  _hot_  you looked?" Rachel exclaims brightly when they reach the exit.

Quinn feels excitement and hope flutter in her chest at the same time as the cold November air strikes against her face.

Rachel just said she looked  _hot_. Not pretty. Not beautiful.  _Hot_.

"Really?" she asks shyly, glancing at Rachel.

"Ye-ah! Feel free to wear fedoras more often, Quinn.  _Seriously_."

She bites her lip and ducks her head down, scarcely able to believe that her best friend, the girl that she is in love with, is saying these things to her.

"Thanks," she mumbles, face blushing.

Whatever. It's snowy out. Her cheeks are allowed to be pink.

"I'm so proud of you, Quinn," Rachel states softly, gripping her arm tighter as she does so.

"It's just a fashion show," she mutters back, trying not to let Rachel's compliments get out of hand.

"I'm not just talking about the fashion show. I'm talking about you. This semester. How far you've come. A couple of months ago you weren't even out. Now look at you, look the life you've made for yourself here. It's  _amazing_ , Quinn. And don't try to say otherwise."

Rachel looks at her with such warmth and pride that she's barely able to keep herself from kissing her right here in the Branford courtyard.

Her dorm is centrally located and so the walk is brief. She's eternally thankful for that, because it's freaking cold.

But more because she actually feels like she has the courage to start talking to Rachel, and she just needs to get out of the snow and into her dorm before that courage slips away.

Rachel lets go of her arm so that she can dig through her purse and pull out her keycard, and she swipes in the access code with numb fingers.

The entryway clicks unlocked and Rachel pulls open the door for the both of them, quickly shuffling away from the cold and into the nicely heated lounge area.

She starts to move towards the staircase, but Quinn gently grasps her hand to stop her.

"Not yet. I think Jessica's home already, and I want to talk to you. Come here, let's sit in the lounge."

She keeps her light grip on Rachel's hand and leads her over to a sofa in front of the bookcases and fireplace. The fire isn't lit, but the room still has a homey and comfortable feel to it.

Rachel sinks into the soft fabric sofa after stripping off her coat, and Quinn settles down next to her as she does the same.

"What'd you want to talk about?" Rachel asks lightly.

Quinn shifts in place so that's she's facing Rachel better. She looks at Rachel's face, tracing her eyes along every gorgeous delicate feature. She watches as her eyes become questioning and then worried when the intensity of Quinn's gaze washes over her.

"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" she asks with a frown.

"Yeah, it's, umm, it's fine. Everything's fine. At least, I think it is," she stutters nervously.

Rachel's questioning gaze flickers across her face.

She ducks her head down and grasps her hands tightly together, clenching until her knuckles turn white. Her breath shortens as she tries to inhale through all the adrenaline pulsing through her veins.

"I-I'm…" She forces her chin to rise and looks into gentle worried eyes.

"I'm i-in love with you."

Rachel stares at her blankly for the longest pause of her life.

"…what?" she states, eyes searching Quinn's face for an explanation.

"I'm in love with you," she repeats with a steadier voice.

"No you're not," Rachel replies neutrally, on pure instinct.

Quinn drops her head again, feeling her hands actually begin to tremble as she continues to clasp them tightly together.

The muscle spasms shake her forearms subtly, her body's natural reaction to the current situation.

When she raises her eyes to look at Rachel again, she feels unshed tears wavering on the edge of her vision. This is all so terrifying and there's not a single thing about how her body is reacting that she can control.

Rachel stares into Quinn's terrified eyes, watching as the moisture begins to collect.

"Oh my god, you're serious," she breathes with wide eyes.

"…y-yeah," Quinn chokes out.

Rachel continues to stare, unable to formulate a response.

She watches as her trembling increases, and reaches down to stop it on instinct.

She wraps Quinn's clasped hands in her own and squeezes gently, looking into the eyes of her best friend.

"A-are you sure? Because, I mean…I know it's not uncommon for gay women to develop a crush on a close friend. It's totally understandable, considering how close we already are as friends," Rachel states softly.

Quinn feels the first tear escape and trace quickly down her cheek.

"It's not a crush, Rachel," she whispers. "I'm sure. I'm in love with you."

Rachel furrows her brow in complete confusion.

"But…since when? I haven't even seen you that much because we've been at school…"

Rachel's eyes stare into hers, asking every unspoken question that races through her mind.

"Since…it feels like forever," she states quietly.

Rachel's forehead scrunches even more.

"Wait, what? You're saying this…isn't recent?" Rachel questions with disbelief.

"No. It's not recent."

Quinn ducks her head and inhales a shaky breath, trying to force oxygen into her lungs and calm her rapidly racing pulse.

"How long?"

She squeezes her eyes shut, feeling the tremors shake her body as more tears finally leak out.

"How long, Quinn?" she questions adamantly.

"Sophomore year," Quinn chokes out in a whisper.

When she's met with complete silence, she raises her eyes look at Rachel's face.

"… _what_."

Rachel looks at her in shock, absolute disbelief.

"I've been in love with you since sophomore year of high school," she admits with trembling lips.

"But…no…there's no way," Rachel shakes her head. "You  _hated_  me in sophomore year. You weren't in  _love_  with me," she denies.

" _Yes,_  I was," she implores softly through tears. "You don't get it. I've always wanted you, Rach. Even when you thought I hated you."

She feels Rachel recoil immediately and let go of her hands, no longer grounding her.

"There's no…you can't…the whole time? You're saying that…all the insults, all the torment, all the slushies…you  _liked_  me?"

Quinn forces herself to look directly into Rachel's eyes.

"Yes," she replies shakily.

"That's…no!"

Rachel jumps up from the sofa and strides away a couple of steps before whipping around to face her.

"Do you…do you realize how  _messed up_  that is?" she shouts angrily. "How  _awful_  that is?"

Quinn feels her whole body begin to shake and her crying can no longer be suppressed.

"I-I know," she whispers. "I know. I'm  _so_  so sorry…"

"You're  _sorry_? You made me have no friends…and feel ugly….and cry into my pillow at night…You destroyed my life, and you're  _sorry_?" she shouts, eyes shining with hurt an anger.

"I know," she chokes out. "It's bad, I know. I was  _so_  unfair to you. But…I  _wanted_  you. I wanted you and…that absolutely terrified me, Rachel. I tried everything I could to make it go away and it never ever would…"

Rachel paces back and forth and look at Quinn with unrestrained anger.

"So you get to try to make your closeted lesbianism go away by torturing and demeaning me in every way you can think of?" she yells. "You get to inflict endless damage on  _me_ so that  _you_  can feel better?"

Quinn watches all of Rachel's compassion for her situation evaporate, overcome by the sickening reality of what forced her to endure such unmerited cruelty in high school.

She just shakes her head and cries. What rebuttal does she have for Rachel's claims?

Every single one of them is painfully true.

"So what is this, Quinn?" she gestures between them with her hand.

Quinn wipes uselessly at her eyes and tries to understand Rachel's question.

"What is this even? What was senior year? Did you finally figure out that  _torturing_  me wasn't the way to get what you wanted? Did you think you'd win the girl by befriending the one that  _you_  made nearly friendless?"

Rachel stares at her with unmasked hurt in her eyes, and Quinn crumbles as she watches her begin to doubt  _everything_.

"No!" she claims hoarsely. "I cared about you  _so_  much, and I just couldn't keep myself away from you anymore. I wanted to really know you. I wanted to be a real part of your life."

Tears slip down Rachel's face and she wipes at her eyes hastily, shaking her head and unable to say a word.

"You're my best friend," Quinn cries, trying to make her understand.

"Am I?" Rachel takes one step closer and stares at her with hardened eyes. "Am I really? Or am I just the girl you've wanted to fuck for a really long time…"

Rachel shakes her head violently, as if the potential reality of her own claim might physically make her ill.

Quinn feels every particle of breath escape her lungs as she watches Rachel question their entire relationship.

It feels like a physical blow, a bone deep contusion that will leave a lingering bruise long after.

She expected Rachel to have a hard time with this, to likely not even return her romantic feelings.

But she  _never_  prepared to hear Rachel doubt their entire friendship.

And the fact that it's happening right now-

It feels like it's ripping her apart from the inside out.

"Don't even, Rachel!" Quinn's all-consuming hurt makes her shout back in retaliation. "You're the most important person in my life! I love you! Even if I could never have you as my girlfriend, I love you  _so_  fucking much. How can you even  _ask_  if I'm your best friend? Of  _course_  I am!"

"How am I supposed to believe you?" Rachel whimpers softly, anger fading into absolute hurt. "How am I supposed to believe you when you've lied  _so_  much, when you've caused so much damage for no good reason?"

She watches as Rachel wraps her arms protectively around herself and turns away from her.

If she thought Rachel yelling at her was bad, nothing compares to how sick she feels as she watches Rachel crumple in on herself.

"Rachel?" she pleads softly.

She remains silent, facing away.

"Can we please just talk about this?"

Rachel spins around to face her, eyes now turning red around the edges.

" _Talk?_  You want to  _talk_? I can't even look at you right now, Quinn."

The words continue to slice through her, and so many cuts have been made at this point that she doesn't know how she's ever going to fully recover.

"Then what do we do?" she whispers, terrified of the answer. She cradles her damp face in her palms, resting her elbows against her knees.

" _I_  get my bags and go back to New York. And we talk when, if ever, I can look at you without wanting to punch a wall."

She raises her eyes sharply to look at Rachel.

"Tonight? Rachel, it's like nine thirty at night. You can't go back to New York right now…"

Rachel steps toward the staircase and Quinn quickly follows her.

"Yes, I can. Buses run every few hours all night on weekends. I'll just swap my ticket for a bus tonight," she says adamantly as she begins to ascend the staircase.

"Are you crazy? You're not travelling to back the city by yourself in the middle of the night."

Rachel spins to face Quinn when she reaches the top landing.

"You've lost any right to tell me what I can and can't do, Quinn," she states coldly. Then she turns back around again and walks purposefully towards Quinn's room.

When she sees that Rachel is serious, and there's absolutely nothing she can do to stop her, she slides the key into her lock.

Rachel immediately strides into the room, grabbing her bags without even acknowledging Quinn's roommate sitting on her bed reading a book.

"Hey, Jess," Quinn states quietly, wiping at her eyes as she watches Rachel step out of the room again now that she has her belongings.

She closes the door again, intent to follow Rachel out, to make her rethink her rash decision.

When they reach the bottom of the staircase, Rachel turns to face her, eyes shining with tears.

"If you ever want us to recover from this, just stop. Don't follow me. Let me go tonight, Quinn," she pleads quietly.

Rachel watches as Quinn's face crumples in resignation, and she gives one final nod before turning and walking across the foyer.

Quinn watches as she pushes open the front door of Branford, disappearing into the snowy night without a single glance back.

A couple of students lingering in the front entryway look at her curiously, and she turns away quickly, desperately looking for a place to hide before she just collapses in the foyer.

Somehow she ends up in the student kitchen, and it's thankfully empty.

She drops to the tile in front of the refrigerator, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

She presses her second speed dial button through completely blurred vision, and prays beyond hope that he'll answer even though the show has still just barely ended.

Right before she expects it to go to voicemail, she hears a voice answer her.

"Quinn? What's going on? Have you talked to Rachel yet?"

She sucks in a ragged breath as sobs shake her entire frame, barely able to string together a sentence.

"I need you," she whimpers out through tears.

" _Fuck_! Quinn? Where are you? Are you already back at Branford?" Jordan questions frantically.

"Yeah," she chokes out.

"Okay. Stay right there. I have a buddy of mine that can let me into the building. I'm coming, Q. I'm coming right now."

"I'm in the kitchen," she mumbles through tears in response.

It's a testament to their friendship that he doesn't even ask why.

He just says that he's on his way.


	24. Chapter 24

Everyone always says that there are two types of people in your life-

The ones you're born with, for better or for worse, your family.

And the ones you choose, your friends.

There are certain moments in life that shed light on the people you've chosen, where you can look and very clearly observe that you chose well.

As Jordan guides her into his dorm room and pulls out the smallest pair of sweats and t-shirt that he can find from his closet, Quinn has one of those moments.

She knows she chose well.

Because Jordan hands her the comfortable clothing without a word, then turns around and faces the door to let her change.

Light tremors still shake her body and she continues to cry as she slips off her jeans and pulls on the oversized sweatpants and Yale soccer t-shirt, placing her hand gently on his shoulder when she finishes changing.

Jordan guides her over to the bed and sits next to her on the edge of the mattress for a moment, unsure of what to do. He watches Quinn fold in on herself, back hunched over as she cries into her lap.

When he realizes that Quinn isn't going to move unless he helps her, he lays back on the bed against his pillow and pulls gently on her shoulder.

"Come here, Quinn."

He guides Quinn to turn around and shifts over on the mattress so that she can lie down next to him.

Quinn barely even hesitates before she rests her head against his chest and wraps her arm over his stomach. He responds to the embrace naturally, wrapping his arms protectively across Quinn's side and back.

"What happened, Quinn?" he asks softly, tracing his hand up and down her back to help calm her down.

Quinn shudders against his chest, pressing her face further against his shirt.

"I told her everything," she cries. "I t-told her everything…and s-she yelled at me a-and ran away."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks hesitantly, gripping her more in his protective embrace and she breaks down.

He feels her head shake against his chest.

"No. I c-can't. I can't, Jordan. I don't even want to think about it…"

"What do you need me to do?" he questions against her hair.

"Just hold me," she replies brokenly, squeezing her arm tighter against his stomach. "Just hold me and talk about something else."

"Like what?" He rubs his hand lightly between her shoulder blades.

"Soccer," she whispers into his chest. "Teach me about soccer."

Jordan only pauses for a moment before he pulls Quinn closer against him and begins-

"There are eleven people from each team on the field at a time. My position is what we call center mid…"

**XXxxXX**

By the time she gets to the main bus terminal in New Haven, she has managed to calm down a little and the passengers are no longer judging her with confused glances.

Apparently emotional breakdowns on city buses aren't encouraged.

The old man at the ticket counter at the bus terminal is kind though, and ignores her puffy eyes and most likely smeared mascara.

Instead, he kindly informs her that the next bus to New York City is leaving at midnight and helps her to exchange the ticket that she purchased earlier in the week.

Midnight. That means she has an hour and a half to wait in this bus terminal. After the man gives her a new ticket, she shrugs her backpack back onto her shoulder and finds a secluded seat in the corner where no one will really notice her.

She pulls her ipod from her bag and puts on some Joshua Radin, hoping that the calm acoustic melodies and gentle voice will help to calm her and distract her.

Her ears block out everything except the smooth harmonies, but they don't block out her thoughts.

Guitar chords ring in her ears and all she can see is Quinn standing at the bottom of the Branford staircase looking absolutely heartbroken.

What happened to Quinn after she left? What did she do?

She pulls out her phone and scrolls through her contacts, thankful that she actually saved the number.

Rachel wipes a few stray tears away from her face and hits the send button, raising the speaker to her ear.

The call rings repeatedly, but no one answers, and soon it cuts to an automated voice message. When the tone beeps, she inhales a deep breath a begins her message.

"Hey Jordan, it's Rachel," she speaks quietly. "I'm…I don't know where you are right now but…please find Quinn, okay? Please go find her if she hasn't already called you." She bites on her lip in worry. "We had a huge fight and…I don't even know how I feel right now, but just…please make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Please…Okay, bye."

She exhales a shaky breath when she disconnects the call and rests her head back against the wall behind her.

Even when she's absolutely furious and hurt, she still can't help but be worried about Quinn.

Quinn doesn't deserve her worry right now, but somehow it's still there.

And as she sits in her polyester chair and thinks about all the awful things that she just learned, a small part of her can't stop thinking about the fact that she probably just completely broke Quinn.

But…that's not her fault. It's Quinn's fault for keeping this hidden away for so long.

Quinn is…

Quinn is in love with her.

And she has absolutely no idea how to feel about that.

When she was in elementary school, she remembers when her dad came home wearing glasses. He talked about how he didn't even realize how bad his vision was until they gave him the right glasses and then suddenly he could see everything much more clearly.

That's how she feels right now.

Like she thought she could see everything just fine, but then Quinn gave her this new piece of information and now everything is presenting itself in terrifying clarity.

All this time.

Quinn has been in love with her this  _entire_  time.

A part of her is just furious at how Quinn handled this in the past.

A part of her that would like to think Quinn is her best friend is hurt that Quinn waited so long to say something.

And then a tiny part of her, a niggling betraying thought in her head that won't go away, is impressed.

She loathes that tiny part of herself that refuses to be upset, that wants to fixate on the fact that Quinn Fabray is in love with  _her_ , out of everyone in the world.

It's as terrifying as it is exciting.

But it doesn't matter, because it's buried beneath so many layers of hurt and disappointment.

Quinn realized she wanted her, so she called Rachel man-hands instead.

Quinn wanted to kiss her, so she had slushies ordered on her to combat that desire.

It's…awful.

But also somehow really cathartic to  _finally_  know the full truth.

All those times that Quinn used to refuse to explain herself in high school. Now she knows what the real reason was.

When she checks her phone to see how much time she still has to wait, she realizes that she won't be getting back to the city until after three in the morning.

She reaches for her phone again to send a text to Naomi.

_Something happened tonight. BIG fight with Quinn. I'll explain later. But I'm coming back to NYC tonight. Bus leaves New Haven at midnight. I'll be home super late._

A few minutes later, when her headphones are already back in her ears, her phone buzzes against her lap.

_**I know. Quinn texted me a bit ago to make sure I let her know when you get home safe. I don't know what happened but PLEASE be careful getting home, ok?**_

Wait. Quinn already texted Naomi?

She thinks about it for a moment until she realizes-

Of course Quinn did.

She texted Naomi for the same reason that she just called Jordan.

Because even when their relationship is in shambles, they still can't help but worry about each other.

Half of their time in high school is solid evidence of this.

_I will. I promise._

She turns up the volume on her headphones again, and realizes that acoustic stuff just isn't going to cut it.

So she switches over to a different playlist and blasts Sleigh Bells instead, just so she can drown out her thoughts in noise.

It isn't until a while later, when she's been on the bus for nearly an hour, that a new realization hits her like a dead weight.

Quinn kissed her a couple of weeks ago when she visited Yale for the first time.

Quinn  _kissed_  her.

She just assumed that Quinn did it because she was confused and trying to figure out her sexuality.

And Quinn went along with it.

But that wasn't what happened at all.

Images of Quinn turned away from her and crying on the floor flash through her mind, and her eyes well with tears.

She clamps her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle this attack of empathy.

Quinn wasn't crying because she was guilty.

She was crying because she kissed the girl that she's in love with and she got shoved away and yelled at.

Quinn has hurt her  _so_  much in the past.

But now she can't help but wonder how many times she has unintentionally hurt  _Quinn_  in all their time together.

How many times has she said or done something, completely unaware of how it was hurting her best friend?

This shouldn't make her feel guilty.

It  _shouldn't_.

Because how was she supposed to know when Quinn never said a word?

Yet somehow the guilt still weighs down on her anyways.

_It all comes so easily for you, Quinn. I figured if you wanted somebody, you would already be with her._

_It'd be nice if it were that simple, but it's not._

She thinks of their conversation from just earlier today.

There must be  _so_  many times that she has said something hard for Quinn to hear without even realizing it.

But there's no way she could have known, because Quinn has kept this locked away the entire time.

That thought alone makes the anger and hurt flare up again to replace the guilt.

How could Quinn do that to a person? How could she torment someone that she  _loved_? How was she able to stand there and fire off insults when all she really wanted to do was compliment her?

How does a person become so terrified that she retaliates in such an awful way?

As much as she hates to admit it, the answers really aren't that hard to find.

Conservative Lima. Homophobia. The Fabrays. Religion. Social hierarchy.

That's what drove Quinn towards this.

Rachel wasn't the one to blame for bringing out the worst in Quinn. Their environment was.

And it was only when Quinn finally managed to break free and start fresh at Yale that she was able to start being herself completely.

That perspective on the situation really doesn't do much to take away the sting of sophomore year though.

Because even though she wasn't the one to blame for Quinn's behavior, she's still the one who had to endure it.

Sleigh Bells gave her a headache after twenty minutes, so she's back on acoustic now, and she listens to the rhythmic strumming of a guitar as the dark landscape of New England rushes by.

She pulls out her jacket and rolls it up, placing it against the window as a pillow so that she can try to get some rest. It's doubtful that any kind of sleep is going to happen right now, but it's worth a try.

After a while, she gets pulled into the lull of gentle melodies, and the last thing she can recall on the edge of consciousness before she drifts into sleep is-

Why is it her? Why is Quinn Fabray in love with  _her_?

**XXxxXX**

She feels the brightness of morning light strike her eyelids and she cracks one eye open, body still lethargic with sleep.

The sun is hardly even up and when she turns to look at Jordan's alarm clock, she sees that it's a little before seven.

Quinn's head sinks back down as soon as she sees how early it is and she snuggles back into Jordan's shoulder, taking comfort in the warmth and steady presence of the person next to her.

Jordan has been the greatest blessing in her life this semester.

And to think, the first time they met at Woodland she tried to make him go away.

She rests her hand against his abdomen and closes her eyes, trying to make her body sleep for a little longer.

Quinn feels his heartbeat against her ear, and the rhythmic pulse helps to calm her again.

If she was even remotely interested in guys, she would make Jordan her boyfriend.

Jordan is everything she ever wanted in a boyfriend, back when she still  _wanted_  one.

He's kind and caring and intelligent. He supports her. He doesn't try anything remotely sexual with her.

…yeah.

She's definitely gay.

Quinn burrows more against Jordan and tries to keep the memories from last night at bay. Please just give her a little more time. Please don't make her deal with it yet.

But as soon as memories from last night seep into her consciousness, she snaps up to check her phone, realizing that she fell asleep last night.

She only lets herself lay back down once she checks her messages and sees that Naomi texted her.

_She's safe Quinn._

Three simple words, but she feels like she can breathe easier once she reads them.

She would never be able to forgive herself if something happened to Rachel after she ran away.

Jordan begins to shift around next to her at Quinn's abrupt movement.

"What time is it?" he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"A little before seven," she answers quietly.

"Too early. Way too early for Sunday…" he speaks into his pillow, trying to block out the sunlight.

"Sorry…" Quinn glances down at their pillow and then around the room. "I can't fall back asleep," she admits.

Jordan groans and then rubs at his eyes, slowly blinking them open to look at her.

"You wanna stay here for a little longer or do you need to get out?" he asks, a little more awake now.

"I need to get out…But, umm, I can just go. You don't need to get out of bed."

Quinn moves to get up from the bed, but Jordan grabs her arm gently.

"Hey, stop that. There's no way in hell I'm leaving you alone right now. I know you're just shoving away everything from last night, and we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'm staying with you. At least for a little while."

Quinn bites her lip and nods, the corners of her lips turning up in a smile.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend, Jordan?" she asks him curiously.

"What?" Jordan blinks at her in confusion.

"Sorry. It's just…you'd totally make a great boyfriend. I know so many girls who would give anything to find a guy like you. Plus, you're like,  _way_  attractive. I'm  _gay_  and I can still see that. So I guess I'm just…curious. Is it because you're not the dating type?"

Jordan smiles and shakes his head lightly, standing up from the bed and stretching toned arms above his head as he forces himself awake.

"Have you ever heard me talk about hookups?"

Quinn looks at him in confusion. "No. But then what…"

"You're not the only one still hung up on a girl, Quinn."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Seriously? Does she go to Yale?"

"No."

Jordan walks over to his closet to change into a clean shirt.

"Then…" Quinn lets the word hang in the air, waiting for Jordan to fill in the rest for her.

"I'll make you a deal," he says, pulling a long-sleeved shirt over his head. "When you can talk about everything that happened with Rachel last night and what you're going to do now," he begins, turning back around to face her, "I'll tell you about me."

Quinn flinches, already retreating now that Jordan has directly mentioned Rachel.

"Until then, how about some much needed coffee?" Jordan asks her, grabbing his wallet and phone.

She nods in agreement. "Yeah, let me just change back into my clothes."

"Okay, I'll be down in the kitchen when you're done." He moves towards the door.

"It won't be weird if I'm walking in the frat house by myself?" she questions hesitantly.

"Nah. No one's awake right now anyway. And either way they all know I'm your lesbro. No chance of them thinking I got lucky." He winks and smiles kindly at her before shutting the door.

The kitchen staff aren't working yet, because they only do brunch on Sundays and that doesn't start until ten. So he pulls out the coffee grinds and gets the machine running on his own, pouring the water in and flipping the switch to let it brew.

A couple of minutes later, when there's enough liquid in the pot to fill half a mug, he pours it out and takes a grateful sip.

Normally, he's a tea drinker. But tea just isn't going to cut it this morning.

Once there's a little caffeine running through his system, he pulls out his phone to check for messages. After leaving the show so abruptly when Quinn called, there's probably some people who have tried to contact him.

He scrolls through the missed calls and blinks in surprise when he sees that Rachel called not long after Quinn got to his room.

He dials the number for his voicemail and raises the speaker to his ear with curiosity. There's some other voicemail from one of the people he invited to the show that plays before Rachel's voice comes through the line.

Jordan listens to Rachel's worried voice as she explains that she and Quinn got into a fight and that she needs him to make sure Quinn is okay.

Barely after the voicemail ends, Quinn enters the kitchen with sleepy eyes.

"Please tell me it's brewed," she mumbles.

Jordan nods and pulls out a mug for her, pouring some coffee out.

"Do you take milk or…?"

"Yeah, milk would be good."

Jordan shuffles around in front of the refrigerator for a moment before returning to their table with a half gallon of milk.

Quinn accepts the carton gratefully, pouring some into her mug and taking a few sips of her coffee immediately after.

"So…I had an interesting call," Jordan states slowly.

"Hmm?" Quinn looks up at him from her coffee mug.

"Rachel doesn't hate you, Quinn."

He watches as Quinn's gaze hardens and then flits down to the table.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she mutters.

"Really? Have you talked to her since she left last night?"

Quinn glares at him. "What do  _you_  think?"

"I think you haven't." She continues to glare. "Which is why I know she doesn't hate you. She left me a voicemail, Quinn."

"What! When?" Quinn looks at him in surprise, trying to figure out why Rachel called Jordan. "Is she okay? Naomi texted me that she made it back safe, but-"

" _Relax_. She's fine, Quinn. The voicemail was left only a little after we got back to my room."

"What did she say?" she questions him anxiously.

"She was freaking out."

Quinn frowns and clenches her eyes shut.

"Of course she was. I don't want to hear this, Jordan…"

"No, Quinn." He pulls on her wrist, forcing her to look up. "She was freaking out because she was worried about  _you_. She called to tell me to find you, to make sure that you weren't alone. She was worried, Quinn. She wanted to make sure someone looked out for you," Jordan explains gently.

"What? Why was she worried about  _me_? She's the one who freaked me out by running away across state borders in the middle of the night on public transportation."

"Because she cares about you, Quinn, despite what you think. And she knew how upset you were when she left you last night. She was afraid you would try to do something stupid."

"Like what?" Quinn asks defensively.

"I don't know. All I know is she was worried. She was worried enough to call  _me_  even after she ran away."

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut as everything that she has been trying to suppress so far this morning comes rushing back.

A few tears leak out of her eyes and she blinks up at Jordan.

"How are me and Rachel gonna get through this?" she whimpers, mask crumbling.

Jordan sets his mug on the table and leans down, wrapping her in a hug.

"I don't know. But you've got to accept that Rachel may never love you like you love her. You've got to try to get past this, Quinn," he states gently against her hair.

"I know," she cries into his neck. "I know that. I just want my best friend back."

"I'm sure she does too, Quinn. I'm sure she does too. But it hasn't even been twenty four hours. You've just gotta give her some time," he soothes.

Quinn forces herself to believe Jordan, to convince herself that this is true.

They're going to be okay.

Her and Rachel are going to be okay.

They just need time.

…right?

**XXxxXX**

When Rachel finally blinks awake at almost noon, Naomi looks at her from her desk.

"So what the fuck happened last night?"

Rachel opens her mouth to respond to her roommate when she hears the ringing coming from the nightstand next to her, and she realizes that that's what woke her up in the first place.

She rubs at her eyes, trying to wake herself up more, and hits the accept call button on the unknown number.

"Hello?"

She clears her throat, forcing her voice to sound more alert.

"Rachel? Is that you? It's Luke."

Her eyes shoot open in surprise and her body jerks up from the bed.

"L-Luke? Hi…hey," Rachel stutters slightly.

Naomi's eyes widen when she hears who's on the phone and she starts whispering and gesturing at her.

" _No_ ," she mouths. " _Hang up._ " Naomi shakes her head back and forth. " _Call him back later._ "

She watches Naomi trying to intervene and swats her hand at the air in her direction to get her to stop, ignoring her roommate and speaking into the phone.

"What's up?"


	25. Chapter 25

"What's up?"

She tries to speak casually, watching as Naomi drops her head into her hands with a frustrated groan.

"Not much. Dreading all the homework I have to finish tonight," he says with a laugh. "How about you?"

"I, umm…to be really honest, I had an awful night last night, Luke. I'm actually supposed to be in New Haven right now with my best friend, but we got into a huge fight and I left in the middle of the night. It's kind of not the best time to be calling," she admits to him awkwardly.

Luke is quiet for a moment before answering her.

"Look, Rachel, if you don't want to go out with me, that's cool. You don't need to give me some story. Just tell me."

Rachel shakes her head as he talks, even though she knows he can't see her.

"No, that's not it at all, Luke. I promise. My best friend Quinn goes to Yale. We got into a huge fight and I didn't get back to the city until after three this morning. I  _am_ interested, Luke. I am," she assures. "You just caught me at a really bad time."

"So what should I do?" he eventually asks.

Rachel pauses as she gives his question consideration for a moment.

"How about I call you back tomorrow when this has settled a little and I can actually think clearly…"

"Sure, that's fine. I was just calling to see if you maybe wanted to get coffee with me some time this week. So just give me a call tomorrow," Luke speaks quickly, sounding almost nervous.

"Should I call you back on this number?" Rachel asks to clarify.

"Yeah, this is my cell number."

"Okay, we'll talk soon, Luke. Sorry about this," she speaks kindly.

"Don't worry about it. I hope everything works out with your friend. Talk to you soon, Rachel."

"Bye," she ends their conversation and hangs up the call, dropping her phone to her bed and looking at Naomi with disapproving eyes.

"Happy now?" she questions her roommate, voice tinged with frustration.

Naomi glares back mildly.

"Oh, don't even try to make feel like the bad guy. I don't know what the fuck happened with Quinn last night, but I have a pretty good guess. And if my guess is anywhere near close, then the last thing you need to be doing is dealing with some new guy asking you out and you know it," Naomi tells her bluntly, not letting Rachel try to push her into a corner.

Rachel sighs and shuffles back on her bed, leaning her head against the wall.

"I promise you, you have no idea what happened last night," Rachel mutters, eyes closed with her head tilted back.

"Try me."

Rachel opens her eyes and lowers her gaze to look at her roommate.

"Quinn told me she's in love with me," she all but whispers.

Naomi's eyes widen and she exhales loudly, leaning forward in her chair. Even though she imagined something like this happened, it's still kind of hard to believe that Quinn finally admitted it. Despite the fact that she knows it couldn't have gone well last night, her lips still quirk up in a smile because Quinn  _finally_  got the courage.

"Okay," Naomi replies evenly, waiting for Rachel to elaborate.

Her face frowns and she lifts her head from the wall to face her roommate fully.

"Did you not hear me? Quinn is in  _love_  with me, Naomi," she states with emphasis, waiting for Naomi to freak out too.

Instead, all she gets is a blank stare in response.

"Well, yeah…" Naomi replies, as if this is completely obvious.

Rachel continues to frown at her in confusion, and her mouth drops open slightly, a million different questions trying to force their way out. But she doesn't actually manage to voice  _any_  of them.

"She's been in love with you for ages, Rachel," Naomi explains gently.

"W-What? What are you talking about?" Rachel splutters. "Are you saying you  _knew_?"

"Of course I knew. It's pretty damn obvious."

"When did she tell you?" Rachel questions, and she hates how much the hurt and jealousy creeps into her voice.

"She didn't. She didn't need to, Rachel."

Rachel stares at her with wide eyes, waiting for her to explain.

"Have you  _seen_  how that girl looks at you? I figured it out just from her visit a while back."

"How does… how does she look at me?" Rachel asks hesitantly, eyes shifting down to stare at her comforter.

"I don't…It's hard to explain. I just…I remember when we picked her up from the subway station. You jumped forward and gave her a hug, and you couldn't see her face. But, Rachel, she looked…she looked like she wanted to keep holding you like that and never let go. Then you stepped back, and her expression shifted, like she was reining it in. I knew right then that something was going on."

"I can't believe this…" Rachel mumbles. "You figured out she was in love with me before she even came out to me."

Naomi shrugs her shoulder and looks at her with sympathy.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Her roommate quirks her eyebrow at her.

"Well…at first I wasn't sure if you already knew. I thought you might be aware of it, but weren't saying anything. Remember Rach, I knew, like,  _nothing_  about you guys at the time. But once I realized that you had no idea, I knew it wasn't my place to say anything. I figured she must have her reasons for hiding it, and that was her choice to make."

Rachel nods in understanding, but continues to stare at her comforter, picking at loose threads on her blanket.

"Still…I can't believe you've known all this time…" Rachel mumbles in wonderment. "How could you see it so easily, while I've been blind to it this entire time?"

Rachel finally makes eye contact again, and Naomi smiles, shaking her head.

"I've been asking myself that same question for weeks."

Rachel manages to crack a smile too, and they both laugh lightly.

"I think, and feel free to tell me if I'm wrong because I still don't know Quinn that well, but…I think your past with Quinn kept you blind to her feelings. I remember what you told me in Central Park, about how things used to be with you guys. Tell me- what's the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Quinn being physically attracted to you?" Naomi questions with curiosity.

"That it's ridiculous," Rachel admits. "That she's Quinn Fabray, and there's no way she would be attracted to  _me_  of all people."

"Exactly. See, at the time I didn't know your past. I didn't know she used to make fun of how you looked. So the fact that she was attracted to you wasn't hard for me to believe. You, on the other hand…"

She lets the sentence trail off, gauging Rachel's reactions.

"I just don't understand," Rachel mumbles.

Naomi observes her quietly, and she can't help but feel like Rachel's response is more than just confusion. She looks scared…

Scared of what accepting the truth of this might actually mean.

"Quinn is so beautiful. Why would she want me?" Rachel questions softly with insecurity, like she's asking herself the question as much as she's asking it of Naomi.

"Why wouldn't she?" Naomi asks in reply, and Rachel's head shifts up to look at her with tired eyes. "You're beautiful too, Rachel."

"You're not in love with me too, are you?" Rachel asks jokingly, deflecting.

"Deeply, madly in love with you," Naomi says with a straight face, eyes glimmering with mirth. "Quinn and I are in secret competition actually."

"Stop it!" Rachel laughs, throwing a pillow at her.

"But… say you  _did_  have to choose between us," Naomi teases, riling up Rachel.

Naomi knows that her roommate needs this right now, the humor. Her insecurities can't be tackled all in one morning. It's going to take time.

"Hmm…" Rachel taps her chin thoughtfully in mock contemplation. "That depends. Will you bake me vegan friendly cookies?"

Instead of pouting or firing off some witty sarcastic reply, Naomi just smiles widely.

And it unnerves her.

"Does Quinn bake you vegan friendly cookies?" Naomi asks with a raised eyebrow, smiling as Rachel blushes.

Rachel's blush is all the indication that she needs.

"Quinn's not a vegetarian or anything is she?" Naomi asks.

Rachel shakes her head, cheeks still tinted pink.

"Like I said- she's so in love with you."

Rachel's eyes shift down.

"Even if you have trouble believing it," Naomi adds gently.

**XXxxXX**

Thank god Jordan is an athlete.

And that he's just crazy enough to agree to this.

Okay, so maybe not  _that_  crazy, but it's still in the low forties outside right now. Normally, that would be enough to make someone want to exercise  _indoors_.

But he's jogging right alongside her on the paths that are now relatively clear of snow. It's mid-morning, and she's feeling a little better now that the endorphins of exercise are pumping through her blood.

"You wanna lap the field once before we stop?" Jordan huffs, out of breath.

"Yeah," Quinn replies breathlessly. "Race you back to this goal post," Quinn exhales in challenge as they pass one of the soccer goals on the practice field.

She takes off at an unforgiving pace, and Jordan quickly follows, competitiveness getting the best of him.

Quinn is  _fast_  and she's got the advantage of a brief head start while Jordan drops his bag down, but he's the one with the longer legs, and so their overall speed is pretty evenly matched.

She feels the cold November air attack her lungs as she rounds the first corner, pushing forward at full force now that she's on the long stretch of field.

Jordan's feet thump against the crunchy grass right alongside her, pushing her to the limit as she forces her body to keep up.

She can feel her heart like it's actually pounding against her sternum as they round the second corner and approach the opposite goal, racing past it together.

Her calves are burning by the time she finally reaches the end of the lap, and she sucks in shallow breaths, forcing the cool oxygen into her lungs as she stands hunched over.

"You're insane," Jordan mutters next to her, trying to catch his breath as well. "Seriously, how the hell do you run like that? I'm almost a foot taller than you and we were nearly even."

Quinn looks over and smiles, still too out of breath to actually reply.

Jordan walks over to the goal post to his bag that he set down and pulls out a soccer ball.

"You still game to kick the ball around for a while?" he asks, bouncing the ball a couple times against his knee before walking back over to Quinn.

"Yeah," Quinn answers, finally catching her breath. "I'm more likely to be able to talk if we're doing stuff," she admits.

Jordan looks at her with a little confusion, and she gets why that might not make sense.

Santana would get it. Quinn's biggest confessions always happened when they were running on the track together or weight lifting. Something about being physically active during difficult conversations just helps the words flow easier.

Jordan backs up several feet so that there are about fifteen feet of distance between then, and then kicks the ball towards Quinn.

She manages to stop it with her foot, even though it bounces a couple of feet away.

"So what's the best way to kick?" Quinn asks, tapping the front of her shoe against the ball.

"With the side of your foot, along the arch. Your aim will be better than if you try to use your toes," Jordan explains.

"That's so weird," Quinn comments, trying to line up the ball with the arch of her foot and test it out.

"Yeah, I know. It's a bit counterintuitive, but I swear your aim will improve a ton once you get used to it."

"If you say so."

Quinn kicks at the ball like Jordan instructed, and it only lands a couple feet off course.

"Not bad."

Jordan juggles the ball against his feet a few times before kicking it back to her.

"So can you tell me about your girl?" Quinn questions, focusing on making her kicks more accurate.

"Can you tell me about Rachel now?" Jordan counters.

Quinn breathes out in frustration, kicking the ball with more force than necessary.

Jordan manages to stop it with his chest though, and it drops down by his feet.

"How about you tell me a little bit about this mystery girl, and then I'll tell you a little bit about last night? We can trade back and forth. I think that would make it easier," Quinn tries to compromise.

"You promise to actually talk?" Jordan asks, receiving the ball from Quinn again.

"Yeah."

"Okay…" Jordan toes the ball a little bit before kicking it again and starting his story as they continue to pass the ball back and forth.

"Her name is Brianna."

Quinn nods in acknowledgement to indicate that she's listening.

"We were in high school together. We started dating after I asked her to Homecoming during sophomore year."

"You went to high school in St. Louis, right?" she asks in clarification.

"In the suburbs. But yeah."

"Okay. Sorry, continue."

"So we started dating in the fall of sophomore year. Not long after, she officially became my girlfriend. Most of our friends didn't expect it to last. We were only fifteen. But we made it all the way through sophomore year and we were still together and closer than ever."

Jordan does a trick with the ball, practicing his footwork, then kicks it back to her.

"Your turn."

Quinn only hesitates a moment before beginning her story as she receives the ball.

"I met Rachel in the hall after the show. She told me I looked sexy," Quinn admits, focusing on the soccer ball so that she doesn't have to make eye contact with Jordan.

"While we were walking back to Branford, she kept talking about how proud of me she was. About how far I've come this semester in dealing with my sexuality. When we got back to the dorm, we sat down in the lounge. I told her I had something I wanted to tell her. And then I just spit it out."

"What did you say exactly?" Jordan asks, receiving yet another pass of the ball.

"I said- I'm in love with you," Quinn replies shortly, defenses rising. She focuses on the steady movement of the soccer ball to keep her mind from freaking out.

"Your turn," she adds right after.

Jordan gives her a look before continuing his story.

"Bri and I were together for a long time. We had a break up that lasted a few months during junior year, but we got back together. By the time senior year came around, we were still together. We both applied to schools on the east coast for college."

Quinn nods, waiting to hear when the real story starts.

"Okay, so this is where things get kind of complicated," Jordan admits slowly.

"What happened? Did the pressure of leaving for college break you guys up?" she asks him.

"No, nothing like that. Alright, this is gonna sound like a huge tangent, but I promise it all relates. And it also explains some other stuff about me that I think you've been wondering about."

She looks at him curiously and waits for him to continue.

"Bri's younger sister Natalie is gay."

Quinn fumbles in surprise and her kick goes way off aim. Jordan ignores the obvious slip up and jogs over to the ball, kicking it back over to her.

"So Natalie is gay. She was a sophomore when we were seniors. She was always sure of her sexuality, from the time her and Bri were early teenagers. Nat never faltered. She knew she liked girls, and she never tried to act otherwise. Bri's family was super open-minded, so Nat knew that she didn't really have anything to worry about."

Right as the story is starting to get interesting, Jordan tells her that it's her turn to talk.

Quinn agrees grudgingly and continues.

"Rachel didn't believe me at first. Until she saw how freaked out I was by telling her. That's when she realized I was serious. She totally froze. And then finally asked me if I was sure it wasn't just a crush. When I made it clear that it wasn't, she also found out that this wasn't recent. I told her how long I've been in love with her…And that's when everything pretty much went to hell."

She looks up from the ground with a defensive posture, only her eyes giving away just how much this is getting to her.

"Can you back up like _a lot_? I need to kick something really hard right now," Quinn admits through clenched teeth.

Jordan nods without a word and jogs way back on the field, giving Quinn plenty of space.

A couple of tears form at the corners of her eyes as she steps back several feet and runs at the ball, exerting as much brute force as she can and launching the soccer ball into the air.

Jordan runs even further back to meet the ball where it lands, and kicks it back across the field to her.

Once Jordan is within speaking distance of her again, she wipes at the few stray tears and collects herself.

"You now."

"Okay. So Natalie was out to her family and some of her close friends, but she kept on the DL at school. She wasn't  _hiding_ , per se, but she didn't flaunt it either. If someone directly asked her, she would admit it, but otherwise she didn't mention it much. Our school was kind of split, because sub-urban St. Louis is pretty Catholic. But then there's also neighborhoods that are quite liberal," Jordan explains.

"Anyway, during March of senior year, we had our regional championship soccer game. Our team won. Bri was super bummed that she couldn't be there, but she was involved in Speech and Debate and they had their own tournament that evening out of town."

At this point, Jordan pauses, and Quinn can just tell that this is when the bad stuff happens. She's not sure what it's going to be yet, but she knows it's nothing good.

"There was an after party that one of the guys from the team hosted. Natalie was there. Unlike Bri, she played volleyball and was pretty popular for her grade. There was alcohol at the party. Lots of it. I had the winning assist for the game to my friend Bryce who scored the goal, and so we were drinking a ton and having a good time celebrating. I was totally wasted by the time I heard shouting out in the backyard."

Jordan ducks his head down and inhales.

"Sorry, I know I've been talking for a bit. But I'm on a roll right now, and if you want me to get this out…" he trails off.

"It's fine, Jordan," Quinn says to him gently. "Just tell me."

"There was yelling. I made it out to the backyard and I saw one of the guys from my team yelling at this girl. I couldn't see who it was because there was a bunch of other people around. All of a sudden there was a bunch of movement and the guy from my team was punching at this girl. A couple people were protesting, but the guy was on a rampage and everyone was really drunk anyway. I was standing right there, but I was out of my mind and I couldn't really see anything until he finally stormed away."

The soccer ball sits stationary next to Quinn at this point. She watches Jordan with concerned eyes, stepping more towards him now as he gets to the heart of his story.

"The girl was bleeding all over the place, and she was knocked out. It was Natalie."

Quinn sucks in a harsh breath and stares at Jordan with wide eyes.

"There was a girl screaming and crying next to her, trying to get her to wake up. I tried to move over to help, but the ground was kind of spinning. I heard someone yelling to call nine-one-one, and I remember hearing sirens at some point. But I kinda blacked out after that."

Quinn feels tears stinging at her eyes as she begins to realize what happened.

"I woke up a few hours later in the emergency waiting room. One of the designated drivers at the party drove me to the hospital, apparently. I was still a little buzzed, but a lot more sober, and I remembered seeing Nat and the ambulance. The guy who drove me explained what happened. He said that Natalie was kissing a girl out in the backyard. They had been secretly dating for a while, because the other girl was in the closet. It turns out the girl she was kissing was the sister of the guy who beat the crap out of Natalie. He caught them kissing while he was drunk and just completely freaked out on her."

"Holy shit," Quinn breathes, anger and sadness rising.

"That's what broke us up. Brianna couldn't forgive me for letting something like that happen to her sister when I was  _right_  there while it happened. She ended up in surgery from internal bleeding, Quinn. By the time graduation came around, she was able to face me again. But we never recovered."

Quinn looks at Jordan closely, and realization strikes her.

"That's why you're involved in Pride," she speaks quietly in understanding. "It's because of what happened to Natalie."

Jordan finally makes eye contact with her and nods.

"It's taken me a long time to get over what happened to her, and I'm still not completely over it. You wanna know why I'm so protective of you? That's why."

Quinn steps forward immediately and wraps her arms around him tightly, pulling him into a hug.

"You're not a bad person, Jordan," she mumbles against his chest.

"I know I'm not," he replies against her ear. "But it makes me feel better being able to help you after I didn't help  _her_."

"I get it. Thank you. I honestly don't know where I would be right now without you. I wouldn't be surprised if I was still in the closet."

He squeezes her shoulder gently as his arms rest against her.

"Rachel's right, you know. You've come so far this semester."

Quinn pulls away and looks into kind eyes.

"I really want to try to move on. But I'm warning you that it's gonna be really freaking hard for me and it'll probably drive you crazy," Quinn tells him with a soft smile.

"I know it will. You're gonna make it though, Q. I know you will. And maybe once you move on more you'll really be able to repair your friendship with Rachel. Maybe if you can move on it won't be so hard. Just use this time while she's figuring stuff out to figure  _yourself_  out."

Quinn smiles and nods, resting her head against his arm.

"Did I tell you I ran into Olivia at the show?"

"Seriously?" Jordan looks down at her, eyebrow raised.

" _Seriously_. As in, I  _actually_  ran into her. Collided, to be more accurate. She was cool about it though. Used it as an excuse to flirt," Quinn admits with a laugh.

"She still interested?" he asks her with a smile.

" _Oh_  yeah. I have her number saved in my phone. She's waiting for me to use it."

"Well…don't completely rush into things. Give it a few days for you to recover from the shit storm of last night, and then maybe give her a call. She's hot, Quinn."

"You should see how hot she is without her dress on," Quinn mutters against his arm, thinking out loud and not caring that Jordan is right next to her.

He just laughs loudly and pats her on the shoulder.

"I'm so proud to be your lesbro."

Quinn smiles and gives him another quick hug.

"Me too, Jordan. I'm proud you are too."

**XXxxXX**

She waits until her intro acting class is over with the next day before returning Luke's call.

The phone rings several times and it eventually goes to a pre-recorded voice message. It's not exactly surprising, considering the school day is still going on and he's probably in class.

She sighs in relief that it goes to voicemail, because she knows how awkward and shy she would be if he actually answered.

Voicemails are easy. You can plan out your exact wording ahead of time and recite it like a monologue with no fear of interruption or immediate reply.

"Hey Luke, it's Rachel. I'm just calling you back about our coffee date. How does Thursday sound? There's this great place called Gold Bar near NYADA if you want to meet somewhere close to me. But if you have a place by NYU in mind, just let me know. So yeah, give me a call when you get this message and we'll work out the details. Talk to you later! Bye."

She sighs in relief once she hangs up the call.

Naomi looked disappointed when Rachel admitted that she was going to go through with the date, but at least it seemed like her roommate understood.

Quinn loves her, and Rachel's flattered.

But she can't put her life on hold just because Quinn finally admitted the truth.

She  _likes_  Luke.

And Quinn, or Naomi for that matter, can't expect her to drop everything just because Quinn has suddenly declared her interest.

She owes it to herself to explore things with Luke.

She has no idea where things stand with her and Quinn, but she knows she won't be able to go very long without her friendship.

Rachel clicks a couple of buttons on her screen to send off a text.

_I hope you're doing better today. I'm sorry for how things happened last night and I'm sorry that I probably hurt you. I care about you Quinn. Just give time, ok?_

She's already back at her dorm and hanging up her coat in her closet by the time she finally gets an answer.

She shouldn't have expected Quinn to say more. She knows that Quinn is hurting right now. But it still stings when she opens the text and all she sees is a one word acknowledgement of her text.

_**Okay.**_


	26. Chapter 26

"So all of this happened in the last week?" she looks at Quinn, eyebrows raised in slight disbelief.

"Yep," Quinn mutters, glad to  _finally_  be through with telling her story.

Dr. Carlton looks at her with sympathy.

"I'm sure it's hard, and I'm sorry Rachel reacted in the way that she did. But are you at least relieved that she knows, even if you're still upset?"

She thinks about her counselor's question, staring at the carpet in thought. That's what's interesting, that she actually  _is_  relieved. Somehow, amidst the emotional roller coaster of the past couple of days, this invisible weight lifted.

That weight has been replaced by the dull pressure of Rachel's absence, but the crushing weight of her secret is finally gone. And even though the past few days have been brutal, she  _is_  starting to see how she's better off for it, despite how Rachel reacted.

"It's nice to feel like I can finally  _try_  to move on, because it's really my only option. It's nice not having to worry about what ifs anymore."

"I can imagine it would be," Dr. Carlton agrees. She pauses and surveys Quinn for a moment before slowly continuing. "I can't help but ask in light of everything that has happened recently- are you going home for the holiday? You haven't mentioned Thanksgiving, but break is only a little over a week a way. Do you have plans to go home?"

Quinn clenches her hands nervously and nods.

"Yeah, I'm flying home next Wednesday night. So…a week from tomorrow." Quinn's eyes widen as she realizes just how soon that is when she voices it aloud.

"How do you feel about going home?" Dr. Carlton questions gently.

"I'm dreading it, to be honest," she admits.

"And why is that? Is there anything specifically?"

She thinks about being back in Lima again, being in her old bedroom, driving past McKinley. Everything about that place is a reminder of what she ran away from, and how much things have changed for her since she left.

"So much has happened since I left for school. I used to be able to tolerate that environment when I just suppressed everything. But now…I'm not so sure how I'll respond. I finally feel like myself here. And I don't know how I'll handle being back in that place that made me shove my real self away, you know?"

Dr. Carlton nods in understanding.

"That makes complete sense, Quinn. It's a legitimate concern. Is there anything you're looking forward to when you're back home?"

Quinn can't help but smile a little when she thinks about the people that she'll get to see next week.

"My friends," she murmurs with happiness. "Santana and Brittany. They're in LA right now, but they're coming home for the holiday."

"And what about Rachel? Will she be home for Thanksgiving too?"

Quinn frowns and tries to remember what Rachel's plans were the last time they talked about it. Hadn't she mentioned her dads possibly travelling to her instead?

"I'm…not sure actually. We haven't talked about it recently. I'm sure she would have eventually mentioned it this past weekend if, you know…"

If everything hadn't become so messed up. If Rachel hadn't left in the middle of the night.

"So tell me what you're expecting at home from your family when you return."

Quinn glares mildly and ducks her head, already dreading next weekend.

"I'm expecting them to brag to all the relatives about Yale," she says with a roll of her eyes. "And I'm expecting them to think that nothing's changed with me except where I'm living."

"And what are you going to do about those expectations?" Dr. Carlton questions neutrally.

Quinn closes her eyes, mind already shifting into flight mode even though she's still in Connecticut.

"It's only four days. So I'm just going to go along with it."

She keeps her eyes trained on the carpet, already feeling like a coward even though this is  _her_  choice to make.

**XXxxXX**

"Have a good day, Rachel!"

Her classmate Heejin from her intro acting class bids her farewell as she gathers her things and walks towards the exit.

In light of everything that's happened recently with Quinn, she's been avoiding her play assignment as much as humanly possible.

The avoidance was originally borne of confusion over Quinn's motives in high school. But now that she  _knows_ , she's terrified to examine each encounter and action in excruciating analysis.

The problem is, she doesn't have the luxury of avoiding it anymore. The rough draft is due is just less than three weeks, and she has an entire  _play_  to write. This isn't something that she could procrastinate and finish at the last minute even if she wanted to. Not that she would, because procrastination is never much of an option with her.

Still, it sucks to know that she really has run out of time. She has to start dealing with this, and she has to start this assignment. The collective project is worth forty percent of her grade. It  _has_  to be good in order for her to succeed in the course.

Against every instinct to evade the issue, she leaves the classroom building and walks toward the library to begin the difficult process of reexamining Quinn Fabray in high school.

She sits down at her favorite desk, the one in the corner on the fourth floor that overlooks the sidewalk below, and pulls out her computer and other various materials.

Her professor provided a helpful rubric for how to approach the writing process, and he made it clear that there's a reason why he requires a rough draft. He isn't expecting perfection. He's just expecting a legitimate effort.

The rubric recommends the process of storyboarding, making note of the key events and the characters involved. Her problem is that she still doesn't even know what she wants to include.

Her story has drastically changed now that she knows Quinn's true thoughts and motives. It changes the entire plot and emphasis of the play.

How does she want to approach this? Where does she start her story? And what's the conclusion she wants to reach?

It needs to tie together somehow, from beginning to end, and that's what she hasn't figured out how to do.

She reads through the rubric a second time to make sure she's not missing any helpful hints that will strike her with sudden inspiration. Nothing's different though.

All she has is a blank document and a blinking vertical line, waiting for her to create something.

When she realizes that this method is futile, she pulls out a stack of blank index cards and two pens. One is black, for every unkind thing that Quinn ever did in high school. The other is blue, to write out her thoughts on  _why_  Quinn did that on the flip side of the card.

She thinks all the way back to the beginning sophomore year and puts a little number ten in the corner to help her keep the years organized.

" _Second week of school. Made fun of my outfit and called me hideous,"_  she writes in black pen.

She stares at the words and feels the slow burn of anger and hurt build up, rapidly flipping the card over to make the words go away.

" _First time Quinn tried to stop being attracted to me by insulting my appearance,"_  she adds on the back in blue.

She stares at the blue for much longer, trying to let the reality of the words sink in. No matter how many times she reads the line, she can't make herself fully accept it.

Mentally, she can perceive them as correct. But emotionally, she's still having trouble grasping at the truth.

As she grabs another note care, she idly wonders how many times she'll have to reference Quinn's attraction to her before it finally starts to sink in as truth.

Some time after she's written out eight or nine note cards, she suddenly feels the need for a third color pen.

She reaches into her bag, pulling out a pen with green ink, and reaches for the next note card.

_Yelled at Santana for making fun of me_.

And on the back, also in green but with a star to indicate it as the "motive/explanation" side, she adds-

_Doesn't like other people hurting me, even though she does it too._

She switches back to the black and blue note cards after that, but every so often she thinks of another green one to make.

_Found out from Brittany that Quinn got a page in the yearbook for Glee club._

And on the back-

_The only person who wanted that page was me. She did it for me._

When she finally checks her phone again, she blinks in surprise when she realizes that it's been over two hours since she started writing.

She now has a modest pile of black and blue marked index cards, and a select few green ones.

She grabs the small green pile with curiosity and lays them out side by side in the chronological order that they occurred, spanning across sophomore year and the first half of junior year.

She looks at the line of green and inspects it with blurred vision, tears stinging at her eyes.

That's when she sees that she finally has her story.

Because within the dense pile of black and blue index cards, there's a clear trail of green that lays bare Quinn's true feelings.

And that's where the story lies.

The black and blue set the scenes, and the green tells the story.

She rubs at her eyes with her long-sleeved shirt and observes her work with a small smile. An idea has struck her and it won't go away.

For every index card, there is a reverse side that documents hidden motives and feelings. As if every moment of this play has two sides to the same coin, two distinct view points that need to be distinguished between each other.

She sucks in an excited breath and grabs her black pen and a blank piece of paper, making herself a reminder note in bold letters.

_Dialogue for everything I saw and understood from Quinn._

_Music for our true thoughts and feelings._

She stares at the two simple lines, and already the decision has resolutely settled in her mind.

There's no question about it. This is going to be a musical.

And the songs will be the window through which the audience sees what her and Quinn were really thinking and feeling.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn is sitting at her desk on Wednesday night, working on her interpretive analysis of  _Daffodils_  by William Wordsworth that's due tomorrow, when she notices a new email pop up in her inbox on the tab she has open.

She has her inbox set so that it only alerts when someone from her contacts emails her, and she clicks on the tab curiously, setting aside her essay for a moment.

When she fully clicks to the page, her heart rate spikes when she sees that the email is from Rachel. What could Rachel have to say that couldn't be said in a short text? If she was ready to  _really_  talk to Quinn, she would have just called.

The only thing worse than clicking on the message would be  _not_  clicking on it, so she selects the message with a nervous tap against her keyboard.

The first things she notices is that it isn't just a couple of lines. It's a substantial message, and she nervously leans forward to read.

_Quinn,_

_I'm emailing you because I'm not ready to talk to you yet, but there are some things I would like to say._

_I hope that you're doing alright. I trust that Jordan or someone would have called me if something serious happened. I'm sorry that I hurt you, Quinn. And don't even try to deny that I hurt you, because we both know that I did. I saw the look on your face before I left you on Saturday, and you looked like you were about to fall to pieces. I can only hope that Jordan or somebody was there to gather the pieces when I couldn't._

_I'm trying to come to terms with what you confessed to me, Quinn. I really am. You have to understand that I'm seeing everything from high school in a different way now, and that takes some getting used to. It's so hard for me to believe that you're attracted to me. There has got to be so many beautiful intelligent women at Yale, and yet somehow you say that I'm the one you want. You know I still get insecure about myself, Quinn. And when I think about you being attracted to me, my first instinct is to wait for the joke, to hear that you're kidding._

_I don't want to trivialize your feelings, because I do believe you. I just have trouble accepting it emotionally, especially after everything that happened between us in high school._

_An assignment for one of my classes has recently forced me to start thinking about our time in high school again. It's making me look at it all again but from your perspective. I'm not joking when I say that I spent more than two hours this afternoon in the library thinking and writing about you in high school._

_I'm starting to see it, Quinn. I'm starting to understand. But it's a really slow and difficult process for me._

_You need to grasp that I can't just jump into your arms because you have romantic feelings for me. You deserve better than rash decision making after how long you've loved me, and I deserve more than how little time I've had to reconcile with this._

_You should know that I don't know how to see you as anything more than a friend, Quinn. And maybe that's because I've gone so long thinking that's all we'd ever be. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want you to wait for me, because I may never feel what you want me to feel._

_I'm going on a date with Luke tomorrow. He asked me out on Sunday, like he said he would. I deserve the chance to explore this thing with Luke, Quinn. And you deserve the chance to find a girl who can reciprocate your romantic interest._

_I love you, Quinn. I love you so much that it hurts to have this distance between us right now. But I'm not_ in _love with you, and I need this distance to figure out how we move forward after everything that has transpired._

_Please take care of yourself, Quinn. And I promise to take care of myself too._

_I'm going to make sure we find a way to get through this, because I refuse to lose you._

_Love,_

_Rachel_

_P.S. My dads are coming to New York for the parade for Thanksgiving, so I won't be in Lima when you're home._

By the time she finishes the message the first time, she feels tears stinging at her eyes. Then she reads through it another three times until she has most of the message imprinted in her mind.

She can't help but focus on the worst parts of the email at first.

Rachel can't believe that Quinn finds her attractive.

Rachel can't see her as anything more than a friend.

Rachel is going on a date with Luke tomorrow.

She drops her head to her desk, and rubs at her eyes, trying to tell herself that this was to be expected. If anything, she should be grateful for how sweet Rachel's message was. She wasn't angry or defensive. She was gentle and honest with her words, and Quinn can tell that she chose every sentence with extreme care.

But there's just something so final about this, the ultimate finisher to Quinn's romantic hope with Rachel. Rachel doesn't see her in that way, and she doesn't want Quinn to wait around for her.

Rachel wants to pursue things with Luke, and she doesn't want Quinn to cling to her feelings.

Those two factors combined eliminate any thought of trying to win over Rachel's heart. She has to respect that Rachel wants to explore something else right now, and that she doesn't want Quinn to hang onto her feelings as she does so.

She knows that that was Rachel's kind way of telling her not to fight for her, that she's not going to be playing hard to get or anything of that nature.

Rachel is serious about wanting to put this behind them and move forward, and Quinn has to respect that.

So where does that leave her?

Does she casually date until her heart doesn't hurt so much? Does she casually date until she finds someone that she wants to be more than casual with?

It seems like the best plan at this point. If she doesn't try to explore things with other people, she's never going to be able to get over Rachel. She needs to move on.

She needs to call Olivia.

Quinn exits her email and grabs her phone from the desk, scrolling through the contacts until she reaches the right number.

She hasn't used the saved contact yet, but it's time. It's time to see if she can move forward with her life.

She hits the call button before she can second-guess herself and presses the speaker against her ear.

The phone rings a couple of times before she hears Olivia's smooth voice come through.

"Hello?"

Quinn clears her throat to make sure her words don't get stuck in her throat.

"Hey Olivia, it's Quinn," Quinn greets her hesitantly.

"Oh my god, you're actually calling me," Olivia laughs warmly.

Quinn smiles and bites her lip.

"Yeah, I'm finally calling you."

"So what's the deal, Quinn?" she asks with kindness. "You still hung up on someone, or can you live a little now?"

"I'm…still a little hung up. But I'm ready to move on. I don't…I'm not sure what you were looking for when you gave me your number. I mean, I know originally we were just gonna hook up," Quinn says awkwardly. "But what are you interested in now?"

"I'm interested in you," Olivia husks in reply.

Quinn rolls her eyes but smiles.

"I know  _that_. Answer what I'm really asking you."

"I'm interested in whatever, Quinn. Casual. Not exclusive. Just fun, you know? I think we could have fun together. And I'm not just saying sex. You seem like an interesting person. I'm not really putting limits on this, other than that I want to keep it light."

She exhales in relief, glad that she and Olivia are thinking the same things. Quinn doesn't want anything serious right now, but she also needs something more than just booty calls. She needs someone who values her as a person, even if they're not pursuing anything serious together.

"Sounds good to me. I think you're interesting too, Olivia. Do you…do you think I'm just using you to get over someone though?" Quinn asks nervously.

"Are you?" Olivia counters.

Quinn pauses for a moment and bites on her lip roughly, debating how she wants to answer this. She decides on full out honesty. If they're going to do this, she doesn't want to be dealing with secrets and miscommunications.

"Yeah," Quinn admits quietly. "At least for now. Don't get me wrong, I think you're really cool. And obviously gorgeous. But I'm not really looking beyond that."

"I'm okay with that, Q," Olivia assures. "I know there's someone else that's been on your mind from the start. Frankly, I just think you're gorgeous and actually interesting to be around. I don't care about your past, Quinn. This is just about letting go, having some fun."

"So we're on the same page?" Quinn asks, seeking confirmation.

"We're good, Q," Olivia replies. "So I'm gonna be at Sigma Chi on Friday. Jordan may have already mentioned the party to you, but anyway. How about I pick you up? We'll go together."

"Perfect. Just text or call me on Friday to tell me when. Can you save this number on your phone or do you need me to tell it to you?"

"I can save it now, it's in my call log."

Quinn taps her fingers against the desk awkwardly.

"So…I'll see you Friday?"

"I'll see you Friday," Olivia laughs warmly. "And Q?"

"Yeah?"

"If you're not opposed, wear that same dress again. I never got to take it off of you last time."

Quinn's cheeks flush pink and she coughs awkwardly, while Olivia laughs loudly.

"God, I love when you're sober and you get all shy on me. It makes when you turn all sexy confident that much better."

Quinn feels her face warm and she's eternally grateful that this conversation is happening over the phone and not in person.

"I-I'll consider it. Bye, Olivia."

"Bye, Q," she hears Olivia's warm voice as she disconnects the call.

Quinn sets her phone back on the desk, and drops her head into her hands, trying to calm herself and focus to work on her essay again.

Rachel doesn't want her to wait around.

So she's not going to.


	27. Chapter 27

"How do I look?"

Naomi looks up from her computer from where she's relaxing on her bed and sees Rachel staring at her nervously.

"You look good," Naomi says kindly, before glancing back down at her computer screen.

"Naomi," Rachel whines, "I'm asking for your honest opinion right now, not for you to placate me. I have no idea how I'm supposed to dress for a first date coffee date! Under _normal_  circumstances I would just skype Quinn because she's way better at this stuff than me, but I can't exactly call my friend who just confessed her feelings for me and ask her how to dress for a date with someone else."

"Yeah, that would be tactless even for you," Naomi replies distractedly, still somewhat focused on whatever she's looking at on her screen.

"Hey!" Rachel huffs and folds her arms across her chest.

"I kid, I kid. Well…kind of. Because you kind of have no filter sometimes. But anyway, what are you asking me? What do you want my opinion about?"

Naomi closes the lid of her laptop and turns her full attention to her nervous roommate.

"Do I look okay?"

The question sounds far more self-conscious and pleading than it did the first time she asked a moment ago.

"You look great, Rachel. Really." Naomi smiles to reassure her.

"You don't think I'm…dressed weird? Because I've gotten comments in the past and-"

"Hey, cut that out," Naomi interrupts her. "You look great. And even if you wanted to wear something really fucking weird, it shouldn't matter. If a first date can't accept you because of what you're wearing, then he's not second date material anyways."

Rachel glances down at her outfit, then back up to her roommate.

"But do  _you_  think this looks weird?" Rachel asks adamantly.

"No, I don't."

"So you'd date me wearing this?" Rachel asks, playful smile hinting at her lips.

"Rach, you're like my sister. I can't even talk about  _hypothetically_  dating you."

"Why not?" Rachel pouts.

"Because I don't see you in that way. But that has nothing to do with how you look. Any person who can't see how beautiful you are isn't worth your effort, okay?"

Rachel smiles softly and ducks her head, nodding.

"So if Luke ends up being a total douche- which I doubt- but if he  _does_ , it's on him.  _Not_  you. You got me?"

Naomi waits until Rachel looks up to make eye contact and nods in reply.

"Good. Now go have fun on your date."

Naomi winks and reaches across the bed, lightly pushing Rachel toward the door.

When Rachel reaches the threshold, she turns back with a grateful smile.

"Thank you."

Naomi smiles in reply, and Rachel shuts the door behind her.

She glances down at herself one last time, and then makes her way towards the stairs.

Naomi says she looks good, and she trusts that Naomi wouldn't lie to her.

So it's time to go meet up with Luke.

**XXxxXX**

Luke agreed to meet her at Gold Bar, so at least part of this date is familiar. She gets there right at seven, and settles into her favorite armchair since he isn't there yet.

She doesn't want to assume that he'll pay for her drink, but she's pretty sure it would be rude to order before he gets here. So instead she sits and taps her fingers against her thigh, glancing at the entrance every few seconds.

She knows it's a pathetic demonstration of her low self esteem when she starts to question if she's going to get stood up when it's only 7:03. But she can't help it. She has no idea why Luke even wants to date her in the first place.

That resolves itself just moments later though when Luke enters the shop in his grey winter coat and forest green scarf.

He smiles widely when he spots her sitting in her chair and walks over to greet her.

Rachel stands with slight hesitance, not quite sure what the protocol for greeting is in this situation.

But Luke settles that immediately when he reaches forward to hug her lightly with no hesitation.

Rachel leans up on her toes briefly, reciprocating the hug before she pulls back with a smile.

"Sorry I'm a tad late. I took the wrong street exit at the subway stop and got turned around," he admits with a smile.

"It's okay."

Rachel smiles shyly and glances down before looking up to meet kind brown eyes again.

"What do feel like getting? I can go order for us," Luke says to her as he hangs his coat up on the nearest hook.

"I umm…" Rachel falters, trying to figure out if it's okay to just accept that he wants to pay. "Soy vanilla latte, please."

"Okay, sounds good. I'll be back in just a sec," Luke smiles at her and makes his way over to the counter to place their drink order.

How do people handle first dates on a regular basis? There's so many factors to worry about that she can barely keep her foot from nervously tapping against the tile right now.

A couple of minutes later, Luke returns and looks toward another part of the shop.

"Do you want to get a table or would you rather stay here?"

Rachel sinks back against her favorite armchair where she always sits whenever she comes here with Naomi. It's a small comfort amidst all the first date jitters.

"Here, please. If you don't mind," Rachel answers, biting her lip.

"Sure."

Luke shifts the armchair next to her a little bit so that they're facing each other better, and then takes a seat next to her.

"So how have you been?" Luke asks casually, and she feels some of the awkward tension attacking her begin to dissipate.

"I'm alright. It's been kind of a crazy week since I last saw you. But things are going okay, I guess. How about you?"

One of the baristas brings their drinks over and sets them down, and Luke thanks her before turning to answer Rachel.

"Pretty good! I mean, school is insane right now because of midterms, but I'm sure it's the same for you. I have a big presentation due Monday that I have to work on like crazy over the weekend."

Rachel frowns in understanding and takes a cautious sip of her latte.

"Good?" Luke asks with a smile, looking at her latte.

"Yeah, it's my favorite here."

"So what happened over the weekend? You said you were in New Haven or something and then came back to the city in the middle of the night?"

Rachel feels her heart clench and glances down at her lap, toying with the lid of her coffee cup. This isn't how this is supposed to go. She shouldn't have to be thinking about Quinn barely ten minutes after her date has arrived.

"Umm, yeah I was in New Haven. My…"

What is she even at this point? Best friend? Old classmate? Some indefinable grey area in between?

"Quinn- she goes to Yale. We went to high school together and we keep in touch. I was visiting her."

"And something happened?"

Luke appears to be looking at her with genuine concern.

"Something happened," Rachel confirms. "I don't really want to talk about it though. I've had to think about it enough the past few days. I want to learn more about you," Rachel says with a smile, redirecting the conversation away from discussion of Quinn.

He picks up on Rachel's reluctance and doesn't push the issue.

"What would you like to know?"

He smiles and takes a sip of coffee, patiently waiting for Rachel to answer.

"What type of music do you like?"

Luke laughs and shakes his head lightly.

"Of course that's your first question."

Rachel feels her face warm and ducks her head shyly.

"Sorry," she says sheepishly.

"What, why are you apologizing? I just think it's funny. You're a musical theater major. Of course my taste in music is vital information," he says with a smile.

Rachel meets his eyes again hesitantly as Luke begins to answer her.

"I listen to a lot of oldies. Classic rock in particular."

Rachel smiles and takes another sip of her drink, getting more comfortable.

"Beatles or Rolling Stones?"

"Rolling Stones," Luke replies immediately.

"Ooh ouch," Rachel exaggerates her cringe and then shakes her head, grinning as she does so.

"Am I to take it that you're more of a Beatles girl then?"

"Oh yeah," Rachel replies, laughing lightly as Luke pretends to shake his head in disappointment.

"This might be a deal breaker," he jokes, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

"It's not my fault that I have better taste than you," Rachel retorts with a smile, watching as Luke shakes his head.

"We shouldn't have started with music. We should've started with something less controversial. Like politics," Luke replies, and Rachel laughs loudly.

"I'd probably judge people less for their political views than their taste in music, to be honest," Rachel tells him, taking another sip of her latte.

"Exactly my point," Luke replies with a laugh.

Now she remembers why she liked this guy in the first place.

Because he makes things feel so natural, even when she's feeling unsure.

That's what she likes, what she's focusing on right now.

Things with Luke are natural. They're easy, and simple to identify.

Even if her first thought is that Quinn totally gets why the Beatles are better.

**XXxxXX**.

They end up talking for more than two hours.

And when Rachel finally admits that she needs to get back to finish up the last of her homework, Luke offers to walk her back to campus.

She agrees when he says that it's barely out of the way, and they walk together all the way back to the NYADA freshman dorm.

"Can I admit something to you?" Luke asks as they reach the edge of campus, and Rachel squeezes his hand gently in response.

"Sure," she replies hesitantly.

"I really like you."

Rachel feels her heart rate begin to increase and the fluttering begin to start up.

"And I know that we've only just started hanging out," Luke continues, "but I guess I just want to clarify so that we're on the same page. I'm…not really interested in anyone else right now like I am with you. So…even though it's still really casual with us…I want you to know that I'm not like doing this same kind of stuff with other girls at NYU or whatever right now."

She hadn't even considered that possibility.

"I don't…I'm not expecting you to not date other people this early on," he continues. "But I just wanted to be honest and admit that I'm not. Does that make sense?"

For the first time, Luke actually looks a little nervous.

"You're saying that you're not going to ask for us to be exclusive already, but you want me to know that you're choosing to date only me right now," Rachel replies slowly, making sure that she understood him correctly.

"Yeah," Luke nods in response, thumb running gently along the outer curve of her palm.

"I'm not dating anyone else either, Luke. And…it's not because this is anything serious yet because I've only known you for like a week. I'm just…not the kind of girl that can handle going on dates with more than one person at a time. That's not how I operate."

Luke smiles at that, and she thinks she might detect his small exhale in relief, but it's hard to say for sure.

"So you want to go out again soon? Maybe actually grab a meal together?" Luke asks her with a smile, using his free hand to brush some of her hair out of her eyes as a gust of wind comes by.

"That would be good," Rachel replies softly.

They reach the front entrance of her dorm and Luke pulls her to the side a little, away from the traffic of people entering and leaving the building.

She knows what's happening as soon as he begins to lean forward, and this time it doesn't catch her completely off guard when his lips connect with hers.

She leans up on her feet slightly, wrapping her arms around his neck as she presses soft lips against his. Luke places his hands against her waist to support her and tilts his head, deepening the kiss a little.

Luke is a far better kisser than Finn used to be, and not as demanding as Puck once was.

She opens her mouth slowly to angle against his, and something flutters in her chest a little bit.

Her eyes are closed, and warm lips are pressed against hers, and then her brain betrays her. Lips slide against hers, and she can't help but recall the last time her lips made contact with someone other than Luke.

She's standing in front of her dorm in New York City, but her racing mind is caught in an open field in New Haven, and it's not fair.

It's not fair because she feels like she's somehow betraying Quinn, even though she did absolutely nothing wrong.

She squeezes her eyes shut and forces the memory away, replacing the mental image of Quinn's heartbroken face with the tangible feeling of Luke's hands against her waist.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Luke says in farewell when he finally pulls away from her.

"Okay," Rachel replies, breathless, and Luke squeezes her hand gently before walking back towards the street.

When she slides her keycard into the front doorway, she sends out a silent prayer that the sinking feeling in her stomach left by her best friend will alleviate soon.

Because she never asked to have her best friend fall for her.

And she doesn't deserve this stupid guilt that's been weighing down on her ever since she found out.

**XXxxXX**

Olivia doesn't even bother trying to disguise her lust when Quinn walks outside to meet her in the Branford courtyard.

She looks Quinn up and down head to toe, then just softly mutters, "Damn."

Quinn laughs and rolls her eyes.

"I'm in my  _coat_. You can't even see me!"

"Yeah, but I can tell you're wearing the dress like I asked you to, and the mental images alone are enough right now," Olivia replies with a grin and Quinn swats at her arm lightly.

"C'mon, let's go. It's freaking cold out."

Olivia laughs and follows Quinn in the direction of the Greek life houses.

She sighs in relief when they finally get to Sigma Chi and she can take off her coat and enjoy the warmth.

"Q!" Jordan yells out from across the room, and she smiles widely when she spots him.

"Hey Jordan!" Quinn shouts back over the music, and a couple people stare at her when she attracts attention.

Of course, that could also be because she just took her coat off and now everyone can see her dress.

" _You_ ," Olivia accentuates, after hanging Quinn's coat up by the door, "are so attractive it's unreal."

She speaks the words against Quinn's shoulder as she stands behind her, and Quinn turns around with a coy smile.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm…and given how many people are currently staring at you right now," Olivia speaks against her ear, "I'd say this isn't new information to you."

Quinn's smile widens and she turns around fully to face Olivia.

"Are you gonna keep sweet talkin' me or can we get to the partying?" Quinn retorts, eyebrow raised in jest.

Olivia laughs and tugs on her hand, pulling her through the dense crowd of people.

"I wanna see commanding Q come out to play. Come on, we need to get some liquor in you."

As they're passing by a staircase, Quinn pulls back on Olivia's hand, momentarily slowing her on her path to the drinks.

"Just so you know," Quinn speaks low against her ear, "I don't need alcohol to get confident. I can take charge plenty without liquor in me."

She watches as a few goose bumps break out on Olivia's skin.

Olivia turns her head around, surveying Quinn with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"So it's an environment thing? The setting is what brings it out in you?"

Quinn's hazel eyes flicker across stunning facial features before settling on amused brown eyes.

"Yeah, it just depends on  _where_  we are. Though I won't deny that alcohol brings it out more."

Olivia laughs lightly and leans in, sliding her lips along Quinn's for a moment and then pulling away with a gentle nip.

"Good to know."

It should be weird to have Olivia kissing her so casually when they haven't done this since she got drunk and tried to hook up with her.

Yet somehow the gesture happens so naturally and without apology, that she isn't really bothered by it. If anything, tasting Olivia's lips against her own just makes her excited to start their night together.

"So…tequila, if I recall?"

Olivia turns to her with a bottle and shot glass in hand.

"Tequila," Quinn confirms with a grin.

**XXxxXX**

She only takes two shots, and she doesn't drink any other alcohol after that.

If she's really honest, it's because she wants to wants to feel like herself if her and Olivia actually end up doing this tonight.

She wants to be buzzed to take the edge off, but she doesn't want to be totally drunk. Not like the last time she slept with a girl.

Olivia doesn't seem to care that she stopped drinking after the first two shots, and she moderates her drinking a little to better match Quinn.

They're out on the dance floor now and have been for a while.

If anything, this is  _more_  thrilling when she's not drunk because she knows that it's all her. She's able to dance with another woman in public in a way that is very decidedly  _not_ platonic, and she knows that it's not just because of liquid courage.

She can actually do this now. She can let some girl grind against her and not try to hide the fact that she's  _very_  much into it, and somehow that feels like a monumental victory.

Compared to the gay panic she had at the beginning of the semester, it really  _is_  a victory of sorts.

And the prize?

Well…

Olivia reaches behind herself and fists her hand in Quinn's hair, blunt nails raking along her scalp and Quinn feels her lower abdomen coil tightly in response.

_OMG_  by Usher is blasting through the speakers, and that's sexy even on its own without having some hot girl grinding all over her.

But since there  _is_  someone grinding all over her to the beat of this song, she feels like she's bordering on sensory overload.

She's pretty sure Olivia knows it too, if her knowing smile is any indication.

Quinn leans down and rests her forehead against the curve of Olivia's neck, keeping her arms wrapped around her waist as they move together to the bass beat.

When their heated skin makes contact, she feels Olivia's moan more than she hears it. Her face is pressed so closely near the girl's vocal chords that it's kind of impossible  _not_  to feel it.

Quinn lifts one of her hands up to drag her fingertips lightly against Olivia's side, running them up and down near her hip. When she circles her thumb twice just below Olivia's hipbone, that's when the other girl loses it.

" _Fuck_ ," Olivia whimpers right next to her ear.

And yeah, she'll never get used to inciting  _that_  kind of response from another woman.

Ever.

Quinn kisses her neck in response, then raises her mouth to speak against Olivia's ear.

"You wanna get out of here?"

" _God_  yes," Olivia breathes out in response, and Quinn links their fingers, pulling her by the hand through the dancing crowd.

They grab their coats, and she only feels guilty for a moment that she never really hung out with Jordan tonight.

He knows what's going on, and he's got plenty of other friends here.

And the more she feels Olivia tugging her away from the Sigma Chi frat house, the less she cares about not hanging out with her lesbro tonight.

"Please tell me you have a single room or a roommate who's out because mine is back at my room," Quinn tells her as they cross the street.

"I live in a suite style dorm with my own room, don't worry. And it's close."

Quinn feels her heart begin to hammer against her chest because they both know  _exactly_ where this is going, and right now it's just a momentary waiting game until they get back behind closed doors again.

This is actually about to happen.

And even though she's kind of nervous, she doesn't regret the fact that she's currently being led to Olivia's dorm.

They agreed that they were going to have some fun together.

And that's exactly what they're about to do.

**XXxxXX**

This time, when Olivia's dress drops to the floor, she doesn't try to ignore it.

She lets herself ogle a bit. And Olivia doesn't seem to mind.

"You," Quinn breathes, leaning forward to pull her into a heated kiss again, "are so freaking hot."

Olivia laughs warmly against her lips, and runs her fingertips up and down her bare stomach, causing the muscles to jump a little.

"Same goes for you, Q. Trust me."

Olivia trails her hands across her ribs and behind to her back, reaching up to unhook Quinn's bra clasp.

She feels a momentary flash of panic shake through her, but quells it when Olivia's eyes darken impossibly and the girl licks her lips as she stares at her now bared chest.

Olivia reaches back around and cups her breasts with both hands, and Quinn feels her thumbs circling, intentionally avoiding anything that will cause a stronger reaction.

She's teasing, and it's already driving Quinn mad.

Her head drops back against the door that Olivia has her pressed against, and the flash of insecurity strikes through her again.

She realizes that as awkward as it will probably be, Olivia needs to know the truth.

"O-Olivia," Quinn stutters as the girl's thumbs trace across her breasts intentionally for the first time. "I need to tell you something," she states breathlessly as the girl starts sucking on her neck again too. " _Unghh_ … no, seriously Olivia, hold on for a second."

Olivia finally seems to register what Quinn is saying and pulls back with concerned eyes.

"Are you about to bail on me again?"

"No, nothing like that," Quinn mutters nervously. "I just…you should know that I've never…with…" Quinn gestures vaguely, hoping that Olivia will get the idea.

Olivia must have because her eyes widen and she pulls back a little more.

"Q…you're not a virgin, are you?" Olivia asks gently, surprise still etched across her face.

"N-No, I'm not," Quinn mumbles, cheeks burning pink.

"First time with a girl then?" Olivia questions to clarify.

"Kind of. I've only…once. And…I was  _really_  drunk, and didn't actually, umm,  _reciprocate_ …"

Quinn feels like her face is on fire, and she ducks her head in embarrassment.

She feels the gentle pressure of Olivia's hand against her chin, pulling her head up to meet her eyes.

"That's fine, Quinn. Really. Gotta be honest, I'm definitely surprised. But mainly just because of how confident you've been in your actions with me. I would've never guessed that you're new to this," Olivia tells her quietly.

"Yeah?" Quinn hesitantly makes eye contact again.

"Yeah," Olivia reassures. "I'm glad you told me though. Because I was kind of expecting you to want to continue to take charge. But now I realize you're…probably not comfortable enough to do that yet, are you?" Olivia asks with far more understanding than she ever expected.

"You're right," Quinn admits in a whisper. "I…I like having…control." Her cheeks flame again even as she admits it. "But…I'm not ready to…take charge like that in  _this_  context yet…"

Olivia leans forward and pulls her into a kiss far more chaste than the one they were sharing just a moment ago.

"I get it, Quinn," she murmurs against her lips. "And I promise it doesn't bother me. It's actually… _really_  fucking sexy when I think about it."

Quinn searches her face with questioning eyes.

"That I'm the first one to really do something like this with you," Olivia clarifies. "So we'll take it slow, okay? And just let me know if anything starts making you uncomfortable."

"Okay," Quinn agrees and exhales in relief.

She is so incredibly glad that she decided to tell Olivia the truth.

Because now she doesn't have to constantly be worried about Olivia's unrealistic expectations for how this will play out.

Olivia gets it, and she still wants her anyway. Just as much as before, it seems like.

"C'mere," Olivia mumbles against her mouth, dragging Quinn into a much deeper kiss again and leading her over to the bed.

When her head sinks back into the pillow and she feels Olivia begin to explore her body more fully, she tilts her head back into the mattress. All she can think is-

She may never have Rachel like this.

But she's going to be okay with that eventually.

Because Olivia is proving to be far more for her than she ever could have hoped.


	28. Chapter 28

She'll never have Rachel this way.

And she's going to be okay with that eventually.

At least…

That's what she tells herself.

That's what she  _needs_  to tell herself. Because otherwise she'll just be stuck at a standstill, unable to move on with her life.

Olivia settles against her, most of her weight resting directly next to Quinn as she leans above her. Fingertips trace up and down her abdomen, and she feels one of Olivia's hands glide up to cup her breast again as the girl leans forward to place wet open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

All of a sudden those lips latch onto her and suck, and her hips cant up instinctively as she grips the back of Olivia's hair, holding her in place.

Olivia's lips continue on their path and skim past her clavicle, moving down the center of her chest along her sternum.

She feels her pulse beat rapidly through her veins as she anticipates what Olivia is about to do next. She's pretty sure she knows what's coming and they've never gotten this far before.

The wet glide of a tongue traces along the outer curve of her breast and then moves up to lick at the sensitive bud, soft lips encasing her nipple.

"Oh my  _god_."

It comes out as a choked whisper, and she tilts her head back into the pillow, tightening her grip on Olivia's hair.

Then she feels teeth scrape gently against her, and she clenches her jaw shut to keep the embarrassing moans from escaping her mouth.

Olivia continues on like this, alternating lips with fingers and lavishing attention to her entire upper body until she feels like a quivering mess.

Her lips are pressed so tightly together that she's pretty sure they'll be bruised in the morning if that's possible, and Olivia licks a wet trail up her neck again.

"Why are you being so quiet?"

She hears Olivia husk the question against her ear as a lone hand draws patterns against her lower abdomen.

Quinn has her eyes slammed shut and is so lost in the sensory overload, that it takes a moment for her to process Olivia's question.

Her cheeks flush in embarrassment, and Olivia pulls away from her neck to look down at her face.

"Sorry," Quinn mutters, focusing her eyes on the ceiling instead of Olivia's face.

"Don't apologize," Olivia responds gently, then moves down and places a kiss directly below her ear before speaking directly against her. "I can just tell that you're holding back. You don't needs to hold back, Q."

Olivia's hot breath is right against her ear and she shudders, while that other hand continues circling above her underwear.

Then her breath catches in her lungs, because that hand moves down and traces on top of damp fabric against her center.

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut and grips at Olivia's hair with one hand, the other one scratching at the girl's back.

"Just feel it, Quinn," she murmurs against her skin, tracing a single finger up and down and creating pressure in all the right places. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

All Quinn can do is whimper in response.

"I know it feels good. So stop trying to hold back and acting like it doesn't. I wanna hear you, Q. You're so damn sexy, so let me hear you. Just let it out," Olivia encourages softly, watching Quinn's face to see how she responds.

Quinn still has her eyes clamped shut though, her lips stoically pressed together.

"Quinn," Olivia murmurs her name, waiting for her to answer back in some way. But she remains silent except for the muffled whimpers that occur every time Olivia's finger presses in the right spot.

"Q, babe, do we need to stop?" she asks with concern.

That finally garners a reaction though, and Quinn shakes her head rapidly, finally opening her eyes.

"Don't stop," she whispers, meeting Olivia's worried gaze.

"Are you sure?" she questions in return.

"I'm sure," Quinn mumbles, and Olivia looks at her doubtfully. "Really, I'm okay," she assures.

"You're not doin' a whole lot to convince me right now."

Kind brown eyes look into guarded hazel.

"Please don't stop," Quinn mumbles in reply, and Olivia continues to watch her. "You feel so good," she adds in a whisper. "I just…I'm not good at letting go."

She curses the tear that threatens to escape from the corner of her eye, and Olivia finally looks like she understands.

"Okay, Q," she answers softly, pressing their lips together again in a display of understanding. "It's okay," she whispers into her mouth.

Quinn exhales in relief, but the tension never leaves her body. Because now Olivia's hand is at the top of her underwear again and waiting this time, silently asking for permission.

She nods nervously against her forehead, and Olivia presses another kiss against her lips as she slowly pulls off her underwear.

Her hand glides along Quinn's inner thigh on her way back up, and Olivia moans at the feel.

" _God_ , you're beautiful," Olivia breaks the silence, and Quinn feels her nerves decrease just a fraction at the reassurance.

She knows she's attractive. But only one other person has ever seen her like this, and the experience was all such a hazy blur that she didn't have time to be scared by the exposure.

Moments later, Quinn feels Olivia's hot mouth against hers as their tongues tangle, and she focuses on the familiarity of that when Olivia's fingers press past her entrance for the first time.

She's not able to completely suppress her moan this time, and Olivia smiles against her lips when it escapes.

When Olivia begins to move in and out of her, she clutches at the girl's back and buries her face against her neck.

She keeps her eyes closed and works to contain her reactions, and a surge of emotions races through her.

Everything is just so confusing because Olivia is wonderful and treating her well.

Olivia feels  _so good_.

And yet somehow it doesn't feel  _right_.

She whimpers against Olivia's skin, and she knows that Olivia will interpret it as softly voiced pleasure.

But really, it's a vocal outburst at all the conflicting feelings that are battling inside of her that she has no idea what to do with.

And she can't quell them or keep them under control, because Olivia's fingers are moving faster now and curling in  _all_  the right ways and the mind-numbing pleasure is just getting impossibly tangled with the parts of her that don't know how to feel right now.

Her lips are pressed tightly together, but her body feels like it's racing towards some impossible finish line. And every time Olivia reaches that one spot, her body feels even more deliciously tense than before.

Olivia must be able to sense it too, because she drags her free hand through Quinn's hair and pulls her ear up next to her.

" _So_  fucking sexy," Olivia moans against her ear, and her insides clench even tighter.

"I'm… I…" she cries brokenly against her neck as she feels her thighs begin to tremble.

"I've got you, Q," Olivia whispers against her ear, and that's when everything explodes.

All the sensations of the past several minutes reach this impossibly higher peak, and overtake everything in her body.

She feels Olivia's fingers trapped inside of her, and any thoughts outside of this feeling right here just go completely blank.

Just when she feels like the tension and pleasure are going to split her in two, her muscles quiver and then relax, and she sinks back against the pillow.

Her eyes finally flutter open and she sees Olivia looking at her with wide concerned eyes.

"What?" Quinn immediately panics and tries to figure out if she did something wrong.

"You're crying," Olivia answers softly.

And that's when she realizes that a few tears have collected at the corners of her eyes and a couple have even managed to escape down her cheek.

She feels her whole face flame in embarrassment and she presses her palms against her eyes to hide herself.

The tears are rising more rapidly now, but more out of embarrassment than anything else.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out in a whisper.

She feels Olivia grasp her wrist lightly and pull one of her hands away.

"Was it something I did?" she asks gently.

"N-no," Quinn shakes her head rapidly back and forth.

Olivia is quiet for a moment and then hums in understanding, tilting Quinn's chin up to meet her eyes.

"It's your girl, isn't it? Whoever she is has got you all in a mess."

She feels her lower lip tremble and nods quietly in admission, wiping the tears from her face.

"Do you…do you need to leave?" Olivia asks hesitantly.

Quinn shakes her head.

"That won't solve anything," she states quietly. "I know…I know I seem upset. But you…you do make things better. Better than when I'm by myself," she admits.

"So what do you want me to do?" Olivia questions, tucking a strand of hair behind Quinn's ear.

Quinn raises conflicted hazel eyes to meet the girl in front of her and reaches forward, pulling her neck forward and leaning into a deep kiss.

"Let me…now…" Quinn breathes into her mouth, and the way she cups her hand against Olivia makes her meaning clear.

Olivia smiles against her mouth and moans when she uses two fingers to rub against the large damp spot on the girl's underwear.

"You sure?"

"Mhmm…just…I don't know how…" Quinn mumbles awkwardly.

"Everything you've done with me has been insanely hot, Q," Olivia reassures, gripping Quinn's hip. "Just go with your instincts. I'll let you know if I don't like it. But I have a feeling that's not gonna happen."

And Olivia is right.

She fumbles a little bit and Olivia guides her, but she's surprised by how natural her actions flow.

It's a combination of just doing what she  _wants_  to do, and doing what she thinks would feel good on her own body.

Doing this for Olivia is somehow much easier than letting Olivia do this to  _her_. She's able to focus all of her thoughts and energy into her movements.

For the first time since she got to Olivia's room, her mind is at peace and her heart doesn't pang with the absence of the girl who's eighty miles away right now.

And the fact that she gets to hear Olivia's sexy voice moan out her name when she comes-

That's just a really nice bonus.

**XXxxXX**

She wakes up in her own bed.

Even though it was nearly three am by the time they were done, she couldn't bring herself to stay.

Olivia had offered and assured that she didn't mind or think it was a big deal, but she declined the offer.

She seemed to understand though, and didn't look at all offended when Quinn redressed and kissed her goodbye.

It's nearly noon now, and she stretches out of bed with a yawn, grabbing the necessary items to go take a much needed shower.

The hot spray strikes against her back and she rubs the shampoo into her hair, letting her mind wander with thoughts of last night.

Something about Olivia has just been…unexpected. In the best way possible.

Not that long ago, she made eye contact with a stranger on the dance floor.

Now that same stranger is the one who is helping her navigate a life temporarily devoid of her best friend. And she is doing so with far more patience and understanding than she  _ever_  could have anticipated.

This isn't how hook ups are supposed to work. Hook ups thrive on emotional detachment, and focus only on the personal benefits. The other person is simply a means to an end.

Somehow, she's managed to find someone who cares about her as a  _person_ , even as they pursue this casual thing between them.

It's not a one night stand dynamic. But it's not an actual romantic relationship either.

They don't know each other well enough to call themselves friends with benefits.

They're just two people caught in this mutually beneficial grey area.

The fact that Olivia has demonstrated so much care and concern makes her feel better about the whole thing. Olivia may not be anything close to a girlfriend, but she is someone who cares for her emotional well being right now.

And that's really what she needs more than anything. Quinn couldn't  _handle_  a girlfriend right now, not to mention how unfair it would be to the other girl when she's still hung up on Rachel.

She vaguely wonders what exactly Olivia is getting out of their arrangement.

There's the obvious benefit of the sex.

But Olivia is gorgeous. Surely she could find other women to hook up with who have far less emotional baggage.

She doesn't want to question why Olivia is sticking around though. Quinn's just glad that she is.

She finishes rinsing off her body and turns the shower head off, pulling her towel from its hook to wrap around herself.

When she gets back to her room, she grabs a comfy long-sleeved t-shirt and a pair of jeans from her closet as her phone beeps with a new text message.

A text from Jordan greets her when she unlocks the screen.

_Hey Q! How do you feel about a night in later? I'm just gonna relax tonight. Last night was crazy and I don't feel like going out again._

She smiles at the thought of staying in and relaxing with Jordan tonight, and texts back.

_**A night in sounds wonderful. I've got a Netflix account too if we want to stream something.**_

She turns on her blow dryer and runs her fingers through her hair, drying the strands as Jordan texts her a few minutes later. She clicks the screen with one hand and reads.

_Sweet! Meet me at Sigma Chi at 6:30? We can eat dinner at the house and then pick out a movie. The lounge has a great TV that we can use._

_**Sounds good! See you later :)**_

She types back with one hand and then finishes drying her hair, grabbing her make up bag off of the dresser.

She digs through the bag to find her mascara, until she realizes that she brought it with her to the party last night.

But it's not in her purse from last night, which means it probably fell out or got misplaced at some point.

She drops her purse back down and walks over to her closet, reaching up on her toes to find her spare make up bag on the top shelf above.

It's mainly filled with eye shadows and such that she doesn't use that often, but she's also got extras of the make up that she uses all the time.

She moves her hand around blindly on the high shelf, feeling for the small bag that she knows she stored up there at the beginning of the semester.

Her fingertips reach what she thinks is the right bag, and she stands further on her toes, pulling it forward.

She finally manages to grasp the bag and pulls it down, but she swipes something else along the way that falls to the floor in front of her.

All the air escapes from her lungs, and she drops her make up bag to the floor, chest seizing painfully.

Tears immediately sting at her eyes and she bends down to pick up the fallen object, choking out a broken sob when she examines it closely.

It's a ridiculous green styrofoam hat with the words  _Liberty Island_  printed across the front in cheesy font, and she traces the first couple of letters with her index finger as the tears leak down her cheeks.

" _I can't believe you actually got this hat."_

" _Don't hate on the hat. You know you're just jealous."_

The memories of her only weekend in New York with Rachel attack her memory, and she throws the hat into the back of her closet with all the pent up sadness and anger that's left in her.

How did everything get so messed up?

Oh, right.

Because she thought it would be a good idea to confess her feelings to her best friend.

Fucking idiot.

Now Rachel is in a different state and avoiding her like it's her full time job. She grabs her phone and curls back up on her bed, wiping at her eyes and scrolling through the text messages on her phone.

Nothing. No texts. The only communication she's received from Rachel was the email.

She pulls up a new text message to draft and stares at the blank message for ten minutes, refreshing the screen every time it tries to go dark again.

Rachel said she needed time. She pleaded for time.

But Quinn didn't expect to be ignored this entirely.

Finally, she inhales a shaky breath and types out a three word message that she's terrified to send.

_I miss you._

She stares at the three words and her thumb moves to the delete button more times than she cares to admit.

It's only been a week since Rachel ran away, but it feels like so much longer than that. They've never gone so long without talking like this. Not since they became good friends.

She glances at those three words one last time and presses the send button before she can talk herself out of it.

Rachel may want her to move on. But she needs to know that Quinn isn't just going to forget about her in the mean time.

She is her best friend first.

And it's time that Rachel remembered that.

**XXxxXX**

Rachel is in the library studying for music theory midterm when her phone buzzes against the desk with a new text message.

She sets down her pen and picks up her phone when she sees that it's her roommate.

_I'm kidnapping you from the library to go to the park. I need trees. Even if all the leaves are gone. You're just working to keep distracted anyways. I know you're already prepared for that test on Monday._

She smiles at Naomi's overwhelming need to see actual nature, and rolls her eyes at how bluntly Naomi called her out on the studying stuff.

Even though she'd never actually admit defeat, Naomi is right. She is already prepared for this test. She's just obsessing to keep her mind occupied.

_**How soon until the kidnapping occurs?**_

_5 minutes XD Meet me at the entrance?_

_**Sure. See you soon.**_

Naomi meets her out front a few minutes later, and she's thankful that the weather is relatively mild today as they head to the subway station together.

"Central park?" she asks when they start to walk together.

"Of course. So how's your day been? Have you memorized Mozart's entire Requiem yet to avoid your Quinn issues?"

Rachel shoves at her arm lightly with a huff and Naomi laughs.

"Seriously, Rachel. You can only hide for so long. And no offense, but you've been a major downer this week."

"I have not!" Rachel replies indignantly.

"Yes, you have. You didn't even laugh last night when we were watching Friends. How am I supposed to believe that you're actually okay when you don't laugh at Friends?"

She shrugs her shoulders, but doesn't give any verbal reply. A taxi horn blares as they cross the street and Naomi flips off the driver without even turning her head.

"I know you miss her," Naomi speaks the truth without apology.

Rachel's eyes flicker to her face before looking forward again. They reach the subway steps together and walk down to get their train.

"I'm still upset with her for lying to me for so long."

"I know you are," Naomi replies, and the screeching metallic sound of an approaching train hits her ears. "But you miss her."

"It's only been a week," Rachel huffs, trying to deny Naomi even though her roommate is speaking the truth.

"Exactly. It's been a whole week. And it's driving you crazy. I'm not saying you need to get on a bus to New Haven, Rachel. I'm just saying- call her or something. For both our sakes."

The subway doors slide open and she boards the car, grasping the railing above her.

"What would I say? I don't want her to think that I'm okay with all of this already, because I'm not. I told her I needed time. Don't you think it would be unfair of me to call her before I'm really ready to move past this? It would just hurt her even more if I called her to say that I miss her but I'm that still upset with her. What good would that do?"

Naomi looks at her thoughtfully for a second, arms gripping the railing above her loosely in such a casual cool way that Rachel smiles and has to resist shaking her head. If only Naomi realized how awesome she looks with her styled purple hair and fitted black coat. The girl does it without even trying, and it's just not fair.

"It would probably help," Naomi interrupts her thoughts, "because then at least Quinn would know that you haven't totally forgotten about her for the past week."

"She knows I'd never just forget about her that easily, Naomi. How could I? She's my best friend. Plus, I emailed her on Wednesday."

Naomi eyes crinkle and her lips lift into a smile.

"Do you even realize what you just said?"

Rachel scrunches her forehead and looks at her roommate in confusion.

"That's the first time you've referred to her as your best friend this week, Rach," Naomi clarifies.

"Well she is," Rachel replies softly.

"Does she know that right now though?"

She hates that she honestly doesn't know the answer.

"Look, I don't want to push you before you're ready. I just know that you haven't been yourself this week. And I think it would be good for you to contact her. Not right this second. But soon."

Rachel nods in reply as their subway screeches to a stop. They've still got one more stop to go before they reach Central Park though.

"What would you do if you were me in this situation, Naomi?" Rachel asks after a moment.

"That depends," she answers.

"On what?"

"On how I felt about the person who confessed their feelings."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks curiously.

"I mean that how I react would depend on if I thought I could feel the same way, you know? Even if it wasn't right away. There's a difference between knowing it's never going to happen, and not  _knowing_  if it could ever happen. I wouldn't want to shut them down completely unless I knew for sure that it couldn't go there. And I guess…I would make sure that the person knew that our friendship always comes first."

Rachel bites on her lip in thought before looking at Naomi hesitantly.

"Are you…are you asking me if I could ever see myself dating Quinn?"

Naomi surveys with interest for a moment before quirking her eyebrow.

"I don't know. Could you?"

She ducks her head to stare at the floor of their subway car and thinks about Naomi's question.

"I'm…I really don't know," she eventually replies.

Their subway car decreases in speed rapidly and comes to a halt at their stop.

When the doors slide open and they exit, Naomi turns to look at her closely before answering.

"The fact that you don't know says a lot more than you realize. It means that a part of you can see the possibility, however small."

She bites her lip and stares back at her roommate.

"But…it's  _Quinn_."

Naomi rolls her eyes and links her arm through Rachel's, pulling her towards the stairs.

"When are you gonna realize that that's a really lame answer to everything that's happened lately?"

Rachel glances sideways at her roommate and then stares forward again as the street comes into view.

Suddenly, it doesn't sound like as good of an argument as it has the past few days.

When they reach the crosswalk, her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out to check to see who's contacting her.

Her breath catches in her throat and she stops walking when she sees the small font telling her that she has a new text message from one Quinn Fabray.

"N-Naomi?"

Her roommate turns back from her spot a few steps ahead and looks at her.

"Yeah?"

"Quinn just texted me."

Naomi looks at her in surprise and walks back over to stand next to her.

"What did she say?"

"I don't know. I haven't read the message yet," she admits.

"Well, go on then. You know you're not going to be able to wait."

Rachel looks at her roommate for a moment before tapping the screen to open the message.

_I miss you._

Relieved tears sting at her eyes when she reads the simple three word message, and she types out a reply now that Quinn has made the first move. Quinn knows that she's not ready to fully talk yet, but she still wants some kind of contact.

And that's the biggest relief in the world right now.

_**I miss you too.**_

She types out her reply and looks up at Naomi with a wide smile.

"You were right."

Naomi just rolls her eyes and smiles back.


	29. Chapter 29

"So how are things going with Luke?"

Naomi takes a bite of her noodle bowl and looks at Rachel, who is picking through her salad.

"Things with Luke are good," Rachel replies with a smile, munching on a piece of bell pepper.

Every so often they get lunch together in the dining hall just for fun. Right now, Rachel needs the relaxation before she spends the rest of the day studying for her last midterm that's tomorrow morning.

"You never told me much about how your dinner date with him went on Saturday," Naomi notes, taking another bite of her food.

"We went to this casual little Italian place near NYU. The date went well. I'm not really sure what you want me to say…" Rachel trails off, focusing on her lunch instead.

"Well, you've been on two dates with him now. What do you think? Are you interested in him enough to keep dating him?"

Naomi looks at her closely and she glances down at her food.

"He really likes me," Rachel replies softly and slowly lifts her head to look at her roommate.

Naomi has her eyebrow raised in question.

"That's not what I asked."

Rachel sees Naomi looking at her expectantly and she looks back with confusion.

"He's interested in me. That's good! Things are going well," Rachel clarifies, waiting for Naomi to stop looking at her like that.

"Rachel, I get that  _he's_  interested. I'm trying to figure out if  _you_  are. You keep telling me how you can't believe this guy likes you, but you never talk about if you like  _him_."

Rachel looks at her roommate in surprise.

"Of course I like him! He's sweet and intelligent and he's really cute, and he seems to actually like me."

She hates how every time she tries to explain, that indiscernible look on Naomi's face only deepens.

"Rach…what's this relationship with him really about?" Naomi asks gently.

She stares at the table and tries to figure out what her roommate is getting at.

"I don't understand what you're asking me. I met a guy. We just started dating. Things are going well. Why do keep looking at me like that?" Rachel asks in mild frustration, raising her eyes to look back at her roommate.

"I'm worried," Naomi states in reply.

"About what?" Rachel frowns, impatience rising.

"I'm worried that the main reason you like him is just because he likes  _you_."

"What do you-"

"It just seems like the thing that appeals to you most about this guy is that he's attracted to you. You rarely mention things about him specifically. It's like the main reason you're dating him is that he was forward about his interest in you that first night we all hung out."

Naomi speaks with patience, and her tone isn't accusatory. Yet somehow Rachel can't help but feel a little attacked.

"Why is it bad for me to like the fact that he's interested in me? It's not like I have guys fighting to date me, Naomi! Why is it bad to enjoy being wanted for once?"

Naomi grabs her hand lightly on top of the table, getting Rachel to calm down as she senses an impending rant.

"It's not bad to enjoy feeling wanted, Rach. But I'm worried that it's the only real reason you're dating him. Because he's interested. I mean, it seems like you like him well enough. You sound like you've enjoyed hanging out with him. But what motivates you to want to be anything more than friends? The impression that I've gotten is that you like him, but you don't really like him the way that he likes you."

Rachel hates how much her roommate's words are getting to her. She feels her eyes begin to water and she blinks rapidly to keep her reaction at bay.

"You don't get it," Rachel mutters, pulling her hand out of Naomi's grip and staring down at her lap.

"What don't I get?"

"Look at you! You look like a freaking model, Naomi! Even with that insane purple hair people  _still_  think you're gorgeous. Because you  _are_. But I'm not you! This kind of stuff doesn't happen to me. Guys don't just look at me and think- wow she's gorgeous. So excuse me for wanting to enjoy spending time with someone who's actually interested in me," Rachel bites back and Naomi's eyes widen in surprise at her sudden shift in tone.

As soon as Rachel gets her rant out, she immediately deflates and feels guilty for jumping at her roommate like that. But she doesn't regret saying it, because not a single word was untrue.

She expects for Naomi to bite back. After all, her roommate is a sweetheart, but she retaliates when necessary. Instead, Naomi looks at her with this pitying expression that throws her off entirely.

"You really have no fucking idea how beautiful you are, do you?"

"Shut up," Rachel mumbles, keeping her gaze lowered and avoiding eye contact.

"No, I will not shut up. You know what my first thought was when I met you on move in day?" Naomi questions, and watches as Rachel continues to ignore her. "I saw you making your bed and dancing to that Passion Pit song and thought- holy shit, res life assigned me a hot roommate."

She hears Rachel scoff in disbelief while her eyes still look down at her lap.

"I'm completely serious. Of course, then I got to know you and immediately saw that we were meant to just be good friends. Look, I don't know about what happened with you in high school. I mean, I know Quinn is partly responsible for making you feel like you're not attractive. But now you know it's because she  _wanted_  you, so I don't understand how you can keep thinking that you're not worth someone's attention."

Rachel reaches up to wipe a couple of stray tears from her face and sniffles, trying to regain her composure.

"Rachel, if you really like Luke, then by all means date him. If there's even the  _potential_  for you to really like him, then date him. But if the only reason you're pursuing things with him is because he expressed interest in you, then don't bother. You are  _gorgeous_ , inside and out, and there's absolutely no reason for you to settle just because you seem to think that no one else is going to be interested in you."

She finally looks up to hesitantly meet Naomi's eyes and speaks quietly.

"Can I confess something to you?"

"Of course," Naomi responds gently, glad that Rachel is actually communicating now.

"I can't stop thinking about Quinn," Rachel whispers, voice heavy with guilt.

Naomi's mouth drops open a little in surprise.

"When you say thinking about Quinn…"

"When I'm with Luke. I can't stop thinking about what Quinn confessed to me. And it's like…I've never thought of Quinn in that way. She's always been really special to me, but never really like that. But whenever Luke talks about something, I can't stop making stupid comparisons in my head about what I think Quinn would have to say on that topic, or even what Quinn would want to do on a date in general."

Naomi presses her lips together to keep the grin from breaking out on her face and instead pauses to formulate a careful answer.

"So when I asked you the other day if you could ever see yourself dating Quinn…"

"I meant it when I said I honestly don't know," Rachel finishes off her train of thought. "It's like, I never thought of Quinn in that way before. But now I can't  _stop_  wondering about her in that context. I think it's just curiosity, now that I know her romantic feelings were focused on me all this time. I think it's also because I'm still trying to reconcile with the fact that this is how  _she's_  been thinking about us for a long time. It makes me wonder what she's thought about."

"Oh, I'm sure she's thought about a lot of things," Naomi retorts, voice dripping with innuendo.

Rachel's face flushes bright red and she covers her face with her hands.

"That's  _so_  not what I meant. Oh my god,  _no_! Geez, Naomi."

Naomi tosses her head back and laughs loudly, while Rachel fights to dispel her embarrassment.

"I'm just giving you a hard time. But in all seriousness, I understand what you mean. It's like if someone tells you not to think about a blue elephant randomly. What's the only thing you can think of after that?"

"A blue elephant," Rachel replies, nodding in agreement. "Quinn's feelings for me are my blue elephant. She got me thinking about them, and now I can't  _stop_  thinking about them."

"Yeah, and it doesn't help that you guys haven't really dealt with it yet. Of course you're gonna keep fixating on it when you haven't even been able to talk to her about it. The most you guys have done is text, and you told me you guys kept your conversation light and just avoided everything that happened."

"Pretty much."

"So about Luke…" Naomi redirects the conversation.

Rachel sighs and ducks her head.

"I want to keep seeing him. At least for a little while longer. I think…you're right about what you said earlier. About me being more attracted to him because he's attracted to  _me_. But now that I have a better…awareness, I guess, about that I want to make sure there isn't something more there. I think there could be. But you're right, I've mainly been focused on the fact that he's actually interested in me."

"That's fair," Naomi agrees. "And it's your life, Rach. I'm not gonna tell you what to do. I've just been kind of concerned. But obviously you know how you really feel better than anyone else does."

"I understand. I get…defensive really easily. But, I'm glad you called me out on it. Even if it's hard to hear, I needed to hear it."

Naomi smiles and grabs her tray.

"Come on, let's get out of here. I know you need to meet up with Heejin soon to study."

Rachel nods and grabs her things, moving over to the trash station to clear away her lunch. She follows Naomi to the exit of their dorm and puts her coat on.

"Where are you headed?"

"Since my midterms are all done, I think I'm gonna wander the city solo for the afternoon. Maybe go check out this gallery that just opened over on the east side."

"Ugh, not fair," Rachel pouts, and Naomi leans forward, pulling her into a hug.

"I'll see you later," Naomi tells her, squeezing her shoulders.

"Okay."

"And Rachel?" Naomi holds Rachel against her a little longer.

"Yeah?"

"You're totally my hot roommate," she speaks against Rachel's ear.

Rachel laughs against her.

"Who you have no romantic feelings for."

"Who I have absolutely no romantic feelings for," Naomi agrees, and Rachel smiles into her shoulder. "You're still hot though."

Rachel laughs and squeezes her arms against Naomi's back one last time before pulling away.

"Thank you," she says shyly, smiling at her roommate.

"Good luck studying," Naomi replies, making a goofy face at as she turns toward the exit.

"Bye, you dork!" Rachel calls after her, and Naomi grins back one last time when she walks out the door.

**XXxxXX**

"I really hate this class," Heejin groans when they realize that they still have three more chapters of material to review.

"I'm not much of a fan either," Rachel sighs, checking her watch and realizing that they've been there for nearly four hours.

"What's the point? How is  _reading_  about acting going to teach us how to act? It ends up just being a survey of notable actors and their techniques more than anything."

Rachel nods in agreement, shutting her textbook.

"We should take a brain break and talk about something else for a little while."

"I'm down for that," Heejin immediately agrees, closing her laptop. "So what other midterms have you had? Tomorrow has to be your last one, right? Because the day after is break."

"I had a big midterm for my music theory class. My playwriting class doesn't have a written midterm because we have this semester long project that we have to submit a draft for in a couple weeks. The final submission is due at the end of the semester."

"Playwriting?" Heejin looks at her in surprise.

"Requirement for my major." Rachel rolls her eyes. "Don't even get me started."

"What's the project?" she asks with curiosity.

"I have to write a play."

Heejin looks at her in disbelief.

"As in, like, a whole fucking stage production?"

"Yep," Rachel nods. "That's why it's a semester long project. We figured out our storylines a little while back. Now we're supposed to be working on a rough draft."

"What's your play about?"

Rachel pauses and debates how to answer.

"It's about these two girls in high school. One of them is gorgeous and super popular, the other not so much. The popular girl relentlessly bullies the other girl, and she's kind of a bitch in general. But she specifically targets the one girl. The play is about how she does it because she's secretly in love with the girl, and it's about her coming to terms with that and what it means for their relationship."

"Oh, wow," Heejin answers, and she actually looks quite impressed. "That sounds… _really_  interesting. What gave you the idea for the story?"

Rachel fidgets uncomfortably.

"Umm, it's…somewhat autobiographical."

Heejin's eyes widen in surprise.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's quite alright," Rachel assures. "You didn't know. But anyway, yeah, that's my big project for the semester."

"Is it going to be a musical?"

"Yeah," Rachel smiles, thinking about the recent ideas for music selections that she's been taking note of. Ideas to use a mixed variety of alternative artists, with songs whose lyrics cater to specific scenarios in the play.

"Well if you need someone to look over a draft at some point, even just to get a second opinion, I'd be happy to read the script," Heejin offers. "Your story sounds really interesting."

"You'd do that?" Rachel asks, caught off guard by the random offer.

"Totally! I mean, like I said, I'm more of an improv actor. But I have a good sense of what dialogue feels organic on stage. I could let you know what I think when you're ready to share it."

"That would actually be  _really_  helpful."

"Well then hand over the script whenever you're ready," Heejin replies with a smile.

"Thank you."

"No problem. You ready to read about facial expressions now?" Heejin asks, rolling her eyes and opening her textbook again.

Rachel groans, but grabs her book.

Just one more day. One more day, then she gets to see her dads and go to the Macy's Parade.

One more day and then she can relax.

**XXxxXX**

Quinn is working on reviewing  _Hamlet_  for her midterm when her phone buzzes against her desk in her room.

She glances down at the screen and sees that Olivia is calling her. Why is Olivia calling at four in the afternoon on a Tuesday?

"Hey," she answers, hitting the accept call button.

"Hey, sexy."

Quinn is proud of how little she blushes. She's actually getting better with this.

"How are you?"

"Okay, I guess," Quinn answers. "Just studying for my Shakespeare midterm in the morning. How about you?"

"I just finished my O-Chem exam."

"You're taking organic chemistry?" Quinn asks in surprise.

Olivia just laughs.

"You still don't even know my major, do you?"

Quinn blushes when she realizes that she really has no idea, and she coughs awkwardly.

"No, I don't," Quinn admits.

"I thought so. Which kind of relates to why I'm calling you. How do you feel about grabbing some dinner with me this evening? Just in one of the dining halls. I know you have to study tonight."

"You want to have dinner with me?" Quinn asks in surprise.

"Yeah, just to chat. We haven't really hung out outside of parties. And I know we talked about actually getting to know each other as people a little bit, so…But if that'll be too awkward for you, we don't have to."

"No, it's fine. I'd love to have dinner with you. You just caught me by surprise."

"Did you think I was calling you in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday for sex?" Olivia teases with a laugh.

" _Maybe_ …" Quinn drawls, playing back. "I mean, from what I hear, O-Chem is stressful. Maybe you just needed to work off the school stress."

Olivia laughs loudly at that.

"Was that a joke I just heard, Q? Dare I say a sexual one?" Olivia questions in mock surprise.

"Mhmm," Quinn hums back, smiling.

"So, dinner?"

"Sure. What time?"

"How about six? Are you studying at Branford? Maybe you want to take a break and go somewhere else for a bit. We can eat at my dorm if you want."

Quinn checks the clock and sees that that still gives her plenty of time to study before she takes a break to meet up with Olivia.

"I'm at Branford. So getting away will probably be good by dinner time. I'll call you when I get to your dorm and you can just let me in."

"Awesome. See you later, Quinn."

"Bye, Olivia," Quinn disconnects the call and looks at the screen for a moment before turning her attention back to her book.

Olivia actually wants to hang out with her. She knows that meeting up for a casual dinner in the dining hall is really not a big deal. But the fact that Olivia is serious about not just using her for sex is reassuring.

She never anticipated that Olivia would be rude to her or anything like that. But she also didn't really know what to expect outside of the bedroom.

She looks down at herself and realizes that she's wearing old cheerios sweats, a black v-neck t-shirt, and her glasses instead of her contacts. She'll obviously change before she goes out to dinner, but she realizes that Olivia has never even seen her in normal every day clothes.

This is going to be interesting.

**XXxxXX**

When Quinn reaches Davenport, the dorm where Olivia lives, she pulls out her phone to call her.

Olivia arrives a couple of minutes later and opens the door to let her in out of the cold. She immediately notices that Olivia is wearing jeans and a simple long-sleeved top, and she relaxes.

"Hey, there," Olivia greets, and pulls her in for a chaste kiss.

Quinn flinches instinctually and quickly glances around them, while Olivia leans forward, brushing her mouth against Quinn's ear.

"No one cares, Q."

Quinn exhales in relief at the reassurance and nods awkwardly, hugging Olivia in greeting.

"Sorry," she mutters against Olivia's shoulder.

"It's okay," she replies softly, stepping away and leading Quinn across the front lounge area of the dorm. "So how'd the studying go?"

"Good. I still need to review some more tonight but I feel like I have a pretty good grasp on the material. I have a good memory for Shakespeare so I haven't had too many issues with getting plays confused."

"That's good," Olivia replies, leading them into Davenport's dining hall.

A few minutes later, once she's payed for her food, she sits down at a table in the corner with Olivia. The dining hall is really similar to Branford's, with old wooden tables and elaborate architecture.

"Okay, so I have to ask," Quinn begins, taking a bite of her pasta first, "organic chemistry?"

Olivia smiles and nods her head. "Yep."

"I can't believe you're a science major. And what year are you?"

"I'm a junior."

"You definitely don't seem like a science person to me. Is chemistry your actual major or just one of your requirements?"

"Chemistry is my major," Olivia confirms, and Quinn shakes her head.

"But  _why_?"

She watches as Olivia laughs and rolls her eyes good naturedly.

"Because I'm actually double majoring. My other major is art history."

Quinn looks at her in complete confusion.

"Those…have literally no overlap for requirements. Are they just two completely different interests of yours that you didn't want to choose between?"

"No, they actually go together completely," Olivia replies with a smile. "I get that response a lot though."

"How on earth do those fit together?"

"I plan to work in art restoration."

Quinn's eyes light up in surprise and she leans forward excitedly.

"Oh my gosh, that's awesome! I  _never_  would have thought of the two connecting like that. But it makes complete sense. You need to the chemistry for the practical application of restoring and preserving art, and obviously you need the art history to work in that area."

"Exactly. I'm from DC and I grew up going to museums. I've always loved art, and there's just so many masterpieces hidden all over the world in people's basements and other ridiculous locations where they're just deteriorating. I think it would be amazing to be a part of preserving it and enabling it to be showcased for the world to see and appreciate."

Quinn can't help but smile as Olivia enthusiastically describes the reason for her area of study and her passion for it. Of all the things she thought they might have in common, appreciation for art was  _not_  one of them.

"Have you been to the museum on campus?" Quinn questions, and Olivia laughs.

"I actually work there."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Olivia nods. "You'd never see me though because I work behind the scenes. I help them prepare pieces to be showcased, and help with the upkeep of the artwork. Almost like a mini internship type of thing for the work that I eventually want to do."

"That is  _really_  cool," Quinn replies genuinely.

"Are you a fan of art?"

"Oh yeah. I actually went to the museum on campus recently to check it out. I have a thing for modern art, even though there's obviously certain older periods and artists that I love."

Olivia quirks her eyebrow and smiles.

"Modern art? Hmm, I would not have guessed that. Why modern art?"

Quinn takes a couple bites of her pasta as she thinks about her answer to Olivia's question.

"I like that it doesn't make sense most of the time. I spent…a lot of my life feeling confused and lost, not knowing which way is up. I enjoy looking at art that kind of reflects that, where it's just a lot of indefinable symbolism and expression. A lot of people don't like modern art  _because_  they can't make any sense of it. But that's exactly why I  _do_  like it."

Olivia looks at her thoughtfully as she explains her reasoning, and she can tell that Olivia is intrigued by her answer.

"That's really interesting. I've always had a harder time appreciating modern and post-modernist art, but your perspective on it makes a lot of sense. I've never heard anyone describe it that way."

Quinn nods and takes a few more bites of her food. Part of her is just so intrigued by this relationship with Olivia. They barely know each other, but they have sex. The sex is no strings, and yet it doesn't involve complete emotional detachment.

And now she's sitting here on a Tuesday night having an intellectual conversation with this same woman about art.

"Can I ask you something?" Quinn begins hesitantly.

Olivia looks at her curiously and nods her head. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why didn't you bail on me?"

She deflects her gaze to the table as soon as she asks her question, nervous about how Olivia will react.

"What do you mean?"

Quinn looks up hesitantly and sees the confusion in Olivia's eyes.

"When you first met me, we were strangers who just wanted to hook up with each other. Then I couldn't go through with it, so you gave me your number, hoping it could maybe happen another time. But, when you found out that I was hung up on someone and…clearly not completely comfortable with my sexuality yet…why didn't you just bail? Why have this arrangement with me when I'm sure there's tons of other women you could be with who don't have my issues?"

Olivia's facial expression softens in understanding and she observes Quinn for a moment before giving her answer.

"You're right. If I had known from the very beginning, I probably would have bailed. But…I didn't know any of that when we first tried to hook up. There's something about you, Q," Olivia states softly.

Quinn bites her lip shyly and slowly meets Olivia's eyes.

"I don't make a habit of getting involved in complicated. In fact, complicated comes at me and I run the other direction most of the time. When you told me over the weekend that you hadn't really been with a girl before, I realized I had signed on for  _way_  more than I bargained for," Olivia admits.

Quinn's cheeks flush pink and she diverts her gaze again.

"I could've just said no. I could've said I had no idea what I was getting into and called off our arrangement. But…I realized that I didn't  _want_  to. I meant it when I said that your inexperience didn't bother me. I have no idea why, Q. My natural instinct is to run away from complicated, but for some reason it's the exact opposite with you. That's really the only explanation I've got."

Quinn meets Olivia's eyes and searches them for any dishonesty behind her words, but she can't find any. Olivia seems to be completely serious about this.

"So there's no…ulterior motive?"

"None," Olivia assures. "I can understand why you thought there might be, but there's really not."

"Can I ask something of you then?" Quinn questions hesitantly.

"What is it?"

"Can you tell me if or when you decide to hook up with another girl? I know we're not exclusive, but I think it would help me to not always be questioning if there's someone else. Or multiple people, for that matter. I'd rather just know up front."

She glances at Olivia, trying to gauge her reaction to this request.

"I think that's completely fair. I don't sleep around at the rate that you probably assume I do, but I promise I'll let you know if something happens with another person. I know this is casual, Quinn. But that doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt."

"Thank you," Quinn exhales in relief and Olivia smiles.

"Of course."

"So tell me about  _your_  favorite period of art," Quinn redirects their conversation.

Olivia's smile widens and Quinn grins in response.

**XXxxXX**

When Rachel finally gets home from the library after stopping to pick up some dinner, she drops down into her desk chair with a groan.

"My brain hurts," she whines, and Naomi frowns in sympathy.

"One more day, and you'll be free."

"Thank  _god_ ," Rachel replies, opening up her laptop to mindlessly check her facebook while she eats dinner.

She opens her container of Thai take-out and scrolls through her timeline, ignoring a bunch of the stupid stuff.

But then her screen reaches a series of candid pictures that make her freeze and nearly choke on her food.

The caption above says that Quinn Fabray has been tagged in three photos in the album  _Sigma Chi Party Up!_  and she clicks to enlarge the small thumbnail.

There, in stark clarity on her screen, is Quinn kissing a girl in the middle of a crowded dance floor. It's clear that the picture was taken just of the dance area in general, and that someone tagged Quinn later on. The picture wasn't meant to be specifically of them, but they're definitely there front and center.

Quinn is wearing an insanely short black dress and her hand is pressed against the back of the other girl's neck in their kiss.

Rachel drops her plastic fork to her desk with a clang, and Naomi looks up.

"Rach? What is it?"

When she doesn't voice any verbal reply, Naomi gets up from her bed and moves to stand behind Rachel and look at the screen.

"Holy  _shit_ ," Naomi exclaims as soon as she sees the picture. "Do you know who that is?" she asks, clearly wondering if Rachel knows about the girl Quinn is kissing.

"No idea," Rachel mumbles distractedly, eyes glued to the screen.

She clicks to view the other two pictures, and sees that they're just pictures of the two of them dancing together. But they are dancing  _together_. There's almost zero space between the two women, and Quinn has her arms wrapped around the other girl's hips.

Rachel checks to see when these were tagged, and realized that it happened almost two hours ago.

That's when she experiences secondhand panic.

Because even though she's freaking out that Quinn is already making out with some stranger, she knows that this is  _way_  worse than just  _her_  reaction.

It's been on her timeline for the past two hours.

Which means it's been on the timeline of every one of Quinn's four hundred facebook friends for the past two hours.

She grabs her phone to send a message immediately.

_911 GET ON YOUR FACEBOOK NOW. I'M SERIOUS, QUINN._

She sends the text message and sets her phone back on the desk, nervously staring at her facebook feed.

This is  _bad_.

Her mouth drops open in fear and overwhelming empathy for Quinn, and she clamps her hand over her mouth when she realizes-

Quinn is going home to Lima tomorrow.

Forget bad.

This is a fucking nightmare.


	30. Chapter 30

The first time her phone beeps in her purse, she ignores it and continues to listen to Olivia.

The second time it beeps, Quinn apologizes and tells her to just ignore it.

When it beeps for the third time in the span of just a few minutes, Olivia pauses.

“Maybe you should get that, Q. In case it’s important.”

Quinn nods sheepishly and digs through her purse to find her phone.

“Sorry,” she mutters, finally grasping it and pulling it out of her bag.

When she unlocks her screen, she sees that she has three unread text messages from Rachel. The little icon at the bottom also tells her that she has a missed call and a voicemail. When she checks to see who it’s from, she finds that it was Santana instead. 

The missed call was almost forty-five minutes ago, right around the time when they were ordering and paying for their food, which is probably why she didn’t notice. 

She flicks back to Rachel’s messages to read those first and feels her heart rate pick up when she sees the urgency of her most recent message.

_ Please just tell me if you know what’s going on and that you haven’t done anything rash!! I’m freaking out right now  _

She quickly scrolls to the message above it and reads-

_ Quinn I’m not kidding you need to log on RIGHT NOW if you haven’t already _

Her pulse beats even more rapidly and she frowns in confusion, moving up to the first message.

_ 911 GET ON YOUR FACEBOOK NOW. I’M SERIOUS, QUINN. _

When she sees how serious Rachel seems to be about whatever is going on, she feels a slow burning panic begin to rise in her chest.

Olivia notices the fear and confusion on her face and observes her with concern.

“What’s going on, Quinn? Is everything okay?”

“I’m…I don’t know. My friend is freaking out about something on my facebook, and not in a good way. I have no idea what’s going on though.”

“Go ahead and check it right now. It’s fine.”

Quinn looks up with conflicted eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Olivia nods and squeezes her hand.

“I’m sure. Figure out what’s going on. Hopefully your friend is just overreacting about something.”

“Yeah…” Quinn trails off, clicking on the application to load her facebook.

When it loads properly, she stares at the screen with wide eyes.

“What the _fuck_ …”

“What?”

Quinn glances up distractedly for just a moment.

“I have seventy two new notifications and twenty three unread messages,” she informs Olivia, clicking over to her page to try to figure out what’s going on.

“Do you know why?”

“No, I-”

She freezes when she reaches three tagged pictures that seem to be the source of traffic on her page, if the number of likes and comments are any indication. 

The thumbnails are far too small to see on her screen, so she clicks on the first one to enlarge it. 

When the full screen photo loads, she nearly drops her phone.

Her phone is held in a shaky death grip as she feels her heart seize in her chest.

She stares at the picture for a few seconds, willing it to disappear. But it just continues to stare back at her mocking.

“ _No…_ ” she whispers. “This can’t be happening…” 

She feels her whole body begin to tremble and her vision starts to blur with unshed tears.

“Quinn, you’re freaking me out. What the fuck is going on?” 

She pushes the phone into Olivia’s hands to let her see for herself and buries her face in her palms, trying to keep herself from shaking.

“How long have these been posted?” Olivia asks quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn mumbles into her hands. “Check, please…”

Olivia is quiet for a moment as she searches to find out.

“They were posted yesterday but you just got tagged a couple hours ago.”

“ _Fuck_ …” 

Olivia doesn’t say anything for a while, and Quinn is terrified to look up. Because once she sits up straight again, she has to actually deal with this.

“I’m not…I don’t…I don’t know what to do for you right now,” Olivia states awkwardly. “I didn’t realize you…does _no one_ from your hometown know?”

“No,” Quinn sniffs through her tears. “My three best friends from high school know, but no one else.”

“Shit,” Olivia breathes out. “I had no idea. Quinn…why have we been doing this so openly then? You never told me you still had big secrets you were trying to keep. I knew you weren’t comfortable with your sexuality yet, but I didn’t know you were still partly in the _closet_.”

Quinn finally looks up through blurred vision and shakes her head.

“Are you seriously asking me this right now? You should have been more careful. That’s the best you’ve got?” she asks with disbelief.

Olivia cringes and glances down at the table before meeting Quinn’s eyes again. 

“I’m…I’m sorry this is happening to you right now. Really, I am. But I didn’t even know this was something we had to be worried about. I would’ve…we could’ve been more discreet if I had known. But now the damage is done. I don’t really know what you expect me to be able to do…”

Quinn wipes at her eyes and looks at the girl across from her with disappointment.

“You’re unbelievable right now,” Quinn mutters.

“What were you expecting, Quinn?” Olivia asks softly. “You can’t make out with a girl in a room packed full of people and not anticipate the consequences. You’re trying to live life uninhibited, but still keep one of your feet planted in the closet.”

She lowers her eyes, refusing to listen to Olivia’s accusations. 

“I should’ve never done this with you,” Quinn mutters. “You say it’s fine, that no one here cares. You make me let me let my guard down,” she continues. “And now I’m totally fucked. I’m going _home_ tomorrow!”

The end of her rant comes out as a choked sob, and when she looks up, she sees a fire in Olivia’s eyes that has never been there before.

“Don’t you _dare_ try to blame this on me, Q. I knew when we started this that you were using me to avoid your issues. And lord knows why, but I accepted that. But you do _not_ get to _blame_ me for those issues too. If you didn’t want people at home finding out that you’re gay, then you should have been more careful.”

Quinn ignores her accusations and instead looks at her with guarded eyes.

“Do you even care that this is happening to me right now?” 

Olivia looks down and laces her fingers together, moving her thumbs against each other anxiously. 

“Of course I do. I would never wish this kind of situation on _anyone_. But I don’t…what are you expecting me to do here? This is so far beyond what I signed on for, Q. I don’t _know_ you. How the hell am I supposed to know what to do _for_ you? I don’t know your past. I don’t know your hometown. I’m in so far over my head right now. This was supposed to be light, casual. We agreed to have _fun_ together.”

Quinn’s gaze hardens and she wraps her arms around herself protectively. 

“I get it. I’m fucked up,” she spits out. “But you should have just bailed when you found out I wasn’t the easy fun you were looking for. Instead, you keep trying to be here for me even though you want nothing to do with my problems!”

“Fine,” Olivia states evenly, quietly. “So either you accept that I can’t be the band-aid for all the problems in your life, or you call off this arrangement. I can’t be the support system you need me to be, Quinn. I’m not your fix for everything.”

Quinn wipes at her eyes, trying to reign in her emotions long enough for her to be able to leave the dining hall with some ounce of dignity. 

“I get it,” Quinn mumbles, shrugging her coat back on. “I have to go,” she chokes out in a whisper, walking swiftly towards the exit.

Her walk back to Branford is a complete blur, and she feels lucky that she even managed to get herself back in one piece. 

As soon as she reaches the lobby of her dorm, she types with shaky fingers to send a quick text to Jordan.

_ What are you doing right now? _

She moves directly toward the staircase as soon as she hits the send button, and fishes her keys out of her purse once she reaches her door.

Thankfully, Jessica has a midterm tomorrow too and plans to be at the library super late.

Her phone beeps in her hand and she looks down to read his reply, laying down on her bed.

**_ Studying at the lib. It looks like it’s going to be an all-nighter for me. :(  _ **

She knows that Jordan would help her in a heartbeat if he knew the full extent of what was going on,but she’s not going to put that burden on him. Not when he clearly has a bunch of studying to do for his test tomorrow.

Quinn exchanges her jeans for sweatpants and crawls under her comforter with shaky legs, dialing her voicemail to listen to the message that Santana left earlier.

She listens to the automated voicemail intro for a few seconds telling her that she has one new message and then Santana’s voice comes through.

“ _Quinn, babe, I don’t know if you’ve seen what’s on your facebook yet. But get online right now if you haven’t. And if you’ve seen it, please don’t do anything stupid. I’m really worried about you right now, and so is Britt. Just call me, okay? And if you don’t want to talk about it, then at least text me so that I know you’re safe. Love you, Q.”_

The amount of genuine worry in Santana’s voice sets her off all over again, as the reality of what’s actually happened presents itself a second time.

She dials the right speed dial number and then presses the speaker to her ear. 

It barely rings once before Santana answers.

“Quinn!Oh thank god, I was about ready to make Berry drive to New Haven to find you if you didn’t call soon.”

“San,” Quinn whimpers into the speaker, voice muffled slightly by the pillow pressed into her cheek.

“I know, babe. I know,” Santana soothes. “We’re gonna talk this out. But before we do, you need to log on and untag those pictures. A lot of the damage is already done, but at least then they won’t be on your profile page.”

“Can you do it for me?” Quinn mumbles through her crying. “You know my old password. I still use the same one for everything.”

“Sure. Give me a sec, and I’ll do it right now.”

She hears some rustling on the phone and then Santana’s muffled voice talking away from the speaker.

“Baby, can you talk to Q for a couple minutes while I untag the photos for her?”

The line is quiet for a moment and then a different voice comes through the speaker.

“Hi, Quinn.”

“Hey, Brittany,” she sniffles in response. 

“How are you?” Brittany asks in a gentle voice with worry. “San’s been so scared because you weren’t calling. She didn’t want to freak you out by calling your phone a bunch of times, but she’s been panicking. She keeps yelling at the computer in Spanish too.”

“I’m still here,” she eventually mumbles back. 

“I remember when everyone found out about San because of that stupid video. Remember when we got super scared because she ran away and we thought she was gonna try to hurt herself?”

“I remember, B” she murmurs quietly, wiping at her eyes.

“We drove around until we found her sitting on a swing at the park. I told San we needed to go drive for you, but then I remembered that we’re on different oceans and it would take too long.”

“Yeah.” 

She doesn’t know what to say, nor does she really have any desire to talk. But that’s fine for now, because she knows that Brittany will fill the silence with her calming voice.

“That Olivia girl in the pictures with you is really hot, Q. Even San said so.”

Quinn chokes out something in between a sob and a laugh, and she hears Brittany giggle quietly on the other line.

“I was super smiley when I first saw the picture because you were getting your sweet lady kisses on and you look really happy in the pictures. But then S reminded me that no one was supposed to know yet. I know you’re really sad right now Quinn, but I hope it doesn’t make you sad for too long because she’s super pretty and you deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks.”

She rolls over onto her back and inhales a deep breath, trying to calm down and focus on the soothing things that Brittany is saying. 

“Is she your girlfriend, Q?”

Quinn is quiet for a moment, unsure of how to answer Brittany’s question in a truthful way without going into too much detail.

“Umm…not quite. But it wasn’t just a one time thing. We kind of have…an arrangement right now.”

She’s not even sure if said arrangement even still exists after their conversation in the dining hall, but it’s the best answer she can provide for right now.

Brittany squeals in delight, and she hears Santana shout in the background.

“Holy shit B, is Quinn actually dating that chick?”

Before Brittany can provide her own version of Quinn’s explanation, Santana is back on the phone.

“Hey, Q, the pictures are untagged now. And I won’t make you talk about hot girl right this second, but I _do_ want all the details before this conversation is over.”

Quinn rolls her eyes even though there are still tears collected at the corners of her eyes, and she can’t help the small quirk of her lips when Santana says that.

Because even though she’s dreading actually talking about what happened on her facebook, she knows that telling Santana about Olivia will be amusing. 

It’s the proverbial light at the end of this terrifying conversation tunnel. 

“So how do you feel right now?”

Quinn snorts and lets out a humorless laugh.

“ _Really,_ Santana?”

“Oh shut it, Fabray. I know we don’t do feelings conversations. That’s Britt’s job. But I’m making an amendment to that, which is- no feelings conversations unless it involves talking about being outed.”

Quinn sighs and rests her free hand over her eyes.

“I hate that this is something we can actually say we have in common.”

“There are several things I’d hate to have in common with you, Q. But this is probably the worst,” Santana agrees. 

Quinn is quiet for several moments, until she reminds herself that this is one of her best friends. And even though they’ve had their volatile moments, and Santana tends to respond with sarcasm a good portion of the time, Santana will never joke about _this_. 

“I’m scared, San,” she finally whispers.

“What’s the thing that’s freaking you out the most?” Santana asks gently.

“I’m coming home tomorrow for break. So there’s no time to let this blow over before I see people in Lima again.”

“Are your parents on your facebook?”

Quinn squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head.

“No, but enough of my extended family is on there that I’m sure someone will tell them.”

“What do you want to do, Quinn?”

Quinn remains quiet, trying to discern what Santana is really asking.

“What do you mean?” she asks tiredly.

“Well, let’s just assume for now that they’ll know about this when you come home tomorrow. So how do you want to handle this? Because there’s a few different things you could do,” Santana explains. “You could tell them it was a dare at a party, which is probably the explanation that your parents would most easily stomach. Though the context of the picture makes that a little hard to buy. Another option is to tell them you were really drunk, which they’ll probably get more pissed about, but at least it sounds more believable. Or…do you think you could actually come out to them over break?”

Quinn feels her stomach clench violently just at the thought and adrenaline caused by fear courses through her.

“I…I can’t come out to them, San…I’m not ready. I’m not prepared for this yet. I need more time,” she rushes out in a panic.

“Shhh, it’s okay. I figured you probably weren’t ready, but I just wanted to ask to make sure. How do feel about telling them you got really drunk if they ask you about it?”

She imagines looking at her father and telling him she got heavily intoxicated and ended up kissing a girl. It definitely wouldn’t be pleasant, but it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as admitting that she’s gay.

“I think I could do that,” she eventually sighs.

“Okay, so hopefully that will take care of the parents. Now about all the other stupid people on your facebook…”

Quinn cringes as she thinks about all the notifications that built up, and all of the comments that she hasn’t even seen yet. 

“Yeah?” she questions, waiting for Santana to finish her sentence.

“Do they really matter, Quinn?”

She pauses and thinks about all the people who have seen those photos, most of whom were acquaintances at best that she has no intention to ever really see again. 

“I mean, think about it,” Santana continues, “Aside from your family members, the only people from Lima on your facebook that you really care about long term are the people from Glee club. And you know they’ll all accept it in the long run. Sure, some of them might have trouble with it at first, but they’re not gonna shun you or anything like that. They love you, even if they don’t understand right away.”

She appreciates Santana trying to rationalize through this for her right now, but she’s not ready to think about this in such practical terms yet. 

She visualizes all those “stupid” people, as Santana called them, seeing the pictures of her and looking at them in disgust or mockery. She thinks about a time when she was respected, when those same people once viewed her with near reverence. 

“Santana, I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Quinn mumbles, voice thick with tears. “But it’s not much of a comfort when there are people calling me a dyke and a sinner all over my facebook page.”

Santana doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Quinn begins to worry that maybe she hung up on her. But then-

“You’re right. Fuck, I’m sorry. This is the same kind of stupid shit that people tried to do with me right after I got outed. You don’t need someone telling you that their opinions don’t matter. Because they _do_ matter to you right now, even if you don’t want them to.”

Quinn feels the tears leak down her cheeks, but exhales in relief that Santana seems to understand. 

“Yeah,” she whispers in reply. “I wish they couldn’t hurt me, but they _can._ And I hate that they have that power over me.”

“It gets easier, Q. I promise. Not long from now, their opinions won’t matter so much anymore. Especially now that you’ve moved on and created this awesome new life for yourself. They can’t touch that.”

She wipes at her eyes and forces herself to breathe deeply, focusing on Santana’s words. 

“Do you…do ever wish you were different, San?” she mumbles hesitantly. “Do you ever wish that you were normal just so life could be easier?”

Santana pauses for a moment to think before she answers.

“We _are_ normal, Q. Because normal is all relative. What _is_ normal in this fucked up world? Personally, I think it’s very _not_ normal that any chicks like dick that much, but those girls exist. In large quantities, I hear,” she jokes sarcastically, and Quinn can’t help but crack a smile. 

“Sometimes I wish that things could be easier,” Santana admits. “But only in that I wish the world accepted me and Britt more. Because I would never wish an easier life on myself by wishing that I never fell in love with B. Maybe a long time ago, I might have. But not anymore. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, even if a lot of people in the world won’t accept that.”

Quinn listens closely, and she can’t help but be proud of how far Santana has come. She just hopes that some day, she can reach a similar place. 

“Britts had a point though…” 

“What do you mean?” Quinn asks curiously.

“You look happy in those pictures. Happier than I imagine you’ve been in a while.”

“I am,” she admits. “I mean, I wouldn’t consider myself to be truly happy. Things are still so fucked up with Rachel, but I’m better than I was. And each day it gets just a little easier.”

She feels a calmness settle over her that hasn’t been there since this phone conversation began, and she relaxes back into her pillow, cradling her phone against her ear. 

“Yeah, I’m lost on where things are at with you two right now. I haven’t talked to you recently enough. You don’t have to tell me now, but maybe when you come home. All I care about right now is who the hell that sexy lady is that you’re mackin on in those photos.”

Quinn smiles and how quickly Santana jumped straight to the point, and she knows her friend is eager for the details.

“Her name is Olivia,” she begins.

“Did you two fuck?” Santana asks bluntly.

“Santana!”

She huffs at Santana’s crassness, but she still can’t help but smile. Because this is exactly what she expected from her friend. And even if she’s crude, at least there’s comfort in the familiarity.

“ _What_? That’s a legitimate question! Did you score, Fabray?”

She bites her lip, reveling in making Santana wait a moment for her answer.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Hell, yeah! That chick is _hot_ , Quinn. Bravo.”

Quinn laughs lightly and rolls her eyes.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“So how was it? Better than your first experience with a woman, I’m assuming. Since you didn’t call me crying the next morning,” Santana teases.

“It definitely confirmed my lesbianism for me,” Quinn replies, intentionally vague just to annoy her.

“I’m taking that to mean she was good. And boy, do I believe it. Jesus, Q, how did you land that girl for a hook up?”

“It’s, uh, a bit of a long story. I’ll fill you and Brittany in this weekend. But, umm…it wasn’t just a one time thing. I mean, technically we’ve only had sex the one time, but…”

“What the hell are you talking about, Q?”

“We, umm, recently agreed upon an arrangement together…” Quinn replies slowly.

Santana is quiet for a moment, and then-

“Holy _shit_ , is she gonna be your fuck buddy or something?” Santana exclaims, and she thinks she might hear Brittany laugh in the background.

“I wouldn’t phrase it quite so crudely. But essentially…yeah,” she admits, deciding to leave out the information about their recent argument for now. 

“Quinn Fabray is in a casual relationship based on sex. Wow. When did you become the old me?” Santana jokes, and she hears Brittany whine ‘ _hey!’_ loudly.

There’s the sound of rustling around, and then Brittany’s voice comes through, Santana’s protest dying off in the background.

“Don’t listen to San, Q. You should totally have sex with her if it’s helping you feel better right now with all the Rachel stuff.”

She feels her cheeks flush pink and she coughs awkwardly.

“Uh, thanks Britt.”

Santana laughs loudly in the background, and she remembers why she loves these two women so much.

Because through all the drama and the stupid shit, the three have them have been there for each other when it really matters.

And she knows that whatever happens over break back home, she’s going to make it through.

Santana and Brittany are going to be there to catch her when she falls. 

** XXxxXX **

****

Nearly an hour later, Santana and Brittany have hung up with promises to see her really soon, and she finally feels calm enough to do something other than stare vacantly at the ceiling in fear. 

She grabs her Hamlet book from her nightstand, and begins to look through certain highlighted scenes. It’s not particularly necessary. She feels prepared for her midterm at this point. But it’s nice to have something to keep her mind occupied. 

She hears her phone beep again and she clicks the screen to see who it is.

Guilt settles like a dead weight in her chest when she reads the new text.

_ Quinn PLEASE tell me if you’re okay! Santana called me a while ago and she still hadn’t heard from you either. I know we’re not on the best of terms right now but I’m so fucking worried about you. At this point I’m ready to call the New Haven police or something. _

The fact that Rachel used such a direct expletive and threatened to call the police is proof of just how freaked out the girl is.

She clicks the button to reply to the text when an incoming call beeps onto the screen, and she stares at the caller ID in confusion.

“What?” she answers neutrally.

“Hey. Can you please come downstairs and let me in? I’m outside of Branford right now. I need to talk to you.”

“Olivia, what are you doing outside my dorm?” Quinn sighs. 

“Please, just come downstairs and I’ll tell you,” Olivia urges.

“Fine, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Quinn disconnects the call and grabs her keys, heading for the door. When she reaches the staircase, she remembers the text and opens it again to reply hastily.

_ I talked to San and Britt. You can stop worrying. I’m fine. _

She hits the send button, and then moves across the foyer to go outside and meet her.

The cold November air strikes her when she steps outside, and she shivers as she walks forward to meet Olivia.

“What are you doing here?” Quinn asks tiredly.

“I came to apologize,” Olivia says to her, and Quinn can tell that she notices her puffy eyes and how much Quinn’s been crying. “Look, I meant what I said earlier, about not being the fix to all your problems. But…I’ve been worried about you ever since you left Davenport. I hate that I can’t stop caring when it comes to you, Quinn. To be honest, it freaks me out.”

“I get it,” she mutters, burying her hands in her coat pockets to try to warm them. “Making me feel better about my problems isn’t a part of our deal. You didn’t sign on for all this other crap.”

“Maybe so. But somehow I still care anyway,” Olivia replies softly.

Quinn looks at her cautiously, too emotionally drained to deal with this right now.

“Why? Like you said, you’re not obligated to care. There’s no reason for you to apologize out here in the cold at night.”

Olivia completely ignores Quinn’s dismissal, and steps forward, resting her hand against Quinn’s cheek.

“Are you okay?”

Worried brown eyes search guarded hazel, and Quinn feels her own warm breath mix with Olivia’s.

“Why do you care?” Quinn questions. “I thought you said you’re not my band-aid.” 

“I’m not,” she agrees. “But you left and I know you don’t have a lot of people here at Yale. I know you have Jordan, but…I don’t know why I care,” Olivia whispers. “All I know is I walked over here because I needed to make sure you weren’t dealing with this alone.”

“You keep saying you didn’t sign on for this,” Quinn states softly, leaning into the soft touch of Olivia’s hand against her cheek. “So why do you keep coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Olivia whispers, leaning forward. “I honestly don’t know,” she breathes against Quinn’s lips, capturing them in a warm kiss. 

Quinn can’t help but respond to the sign of affection, and she wraps her arms around Olivia’s neck, embracing the first comforting contact that she has received since all of this happened a few hours ago. 

Olivia sighs in relief when Quinn reciprocates, and she wraps her arms protectively around Quinn’s waist, pulling her closer. 

“Come inside with me,” Quinn breathes against her. “My roommate’s gonna be at the library until at least midnight.”

“Are you sure?” Olivia replies softly, tracing her hand along Quinn’s jaw.

Quinn nods against her forehead, pressing another quick kiss to her lips. 

“I’m sure,” she murmurs. “You make things better. And I just want things to feel better for a little while.”

“Okay,” Olivia agrees, lacing their fingers together and leading them back towards the entrance of the dorm.

A couple minutes later, when Olivia is kissing along her neck as she pulls off Quinn’s coat, she misses the sound of a beeping cell phone that is muffled inside of the coat’s pocket. 

Olivia bends down and slowly raises her long sleeved t-shirt, kissing a path up her stomach.

And she doesn’t even notice that someone texted her in reply. 


	31. Chapter 31

_911 GET ON YOUR FACEBOOK NOW. I'M SERIOUS, QUINN._

She sends the text and anxiously grips her phone in her hand, eyes darting between the screen of her phone and the screen of her laptop.

She barely lasts thirty seconds before she feels the need to send a follow-up text.

_Quinn I'm not kidding you need to log on RIGHT NOW if you haven't already_

Quinn needs to understand that she isn't just being melodramatic, that something legitimately serious is going on.

A couple of minutes pass, and as she's staring at the photo of Quinn kissing this mystery woman, she begins to panic. There's a good chance that Quinn has absolutely no idea what's going on, and she  _hates_  the fact that her best friend's world is about to implode and they're not even really on speaking terms right now.

If this was doomed to happen, why couldn't it have been when they were okay? Why does it have to be now, when their friendship has been reduced to awkward texts and hesitant 'I miss you' admissions?

Nervous and panicked tears collect in her eyes, and she types out a third text with shaky fingers.

_Please just tell me if you know what's going on and that you haven't done anything rash! I'm freaking out right now_

She hits send, and then Naomi's strong hands are on her shoulders, grounding her. Her roommate stands behind her chair and the pressure of her hands helps to force herself back into focus.

"Just breathe, Rach," Naomi encourages gently. She kneads her hands into Rachel's shoulders a couple of times, trying to relax the muscles that have gone rigid. "No matter what happens, Quinn will figure this out. You guys will figure this out."

Rachel feels a few of the tears trace down her cheeks and she reaches her own hands up to grip on top of Naomi's.

"Why does this have to happen to her?" she questions, voice heavy with emotion as she stares at her facebook timeline. "Hasn't she been through enough this semester already?"

Naomi turns her palms to link her fingers with Rachel's and leans forward, resting her forehead against the side of Rachel's head.

"I don't know," she speaks softly against Rachel's hair. "Why does this stuff  _ever_  have to happen to people?"

"It's not fair," Rachel whines, growing increasingly upset as she reads through all the hateful comments on Quinn's facebook page.

"Come here," Naomi instructs gently, turning Rachel's chair around and pulling the distraught girl into her arms.

Rachel responds to the embrace immediately, squeezing her arms tightly around Naomi's shoulders. She buries her face against Naomi's neck, and Naomi grips her tighter, guiding Rachel out of the chair and over to her bed.

She sits both of them down, and Rachel is angled sideways, halfway covering Naomi's lap as the girl runs one of her hands comfortingly through Rachel's hair.

"There's nothing we can do until she finds out and calls," Naomi whispers into her hair. "We just have to wait for her to call. She's gonna be okay, Rach. It's gonna be really hard, but you can get help her get through this. I know you can."

Rachel grips her roommate's shoulder and leans into her more.

"If we were okay, I'd be on my way to Port Authority to catch a bus right now," she cries into Naomi's shirt. "But everything's so messed up and I don't even know if she'll want to talk to me."

"Shhh, it's alright, Rachel," Naomi soothes. "I know you guys are in a rough patch right now, but she knows you're still there for her."

Rachel doesn't reply after that, and she grips onto Naomi like she's her lifeline.

Naomi continues to run her fingers through Rachel's hair, but Rachel only cries harder and Naomi starts to feel like there's something else she's missing.

"Babe, it's okay. Quinn's a strong girl," Naomi reassures gently . "I know you're worried, but Rach you're freaking me out. You need to try to calm down and  _breathe_."

Rachel presses her face into Naomi's neck and releases a quiet sob, gripping Naomi's t-shirt in her left hand.

"I c-can't," she stutters through her crying.

"Why not?" Naomi murmurs with worry. "What is it, Rach?"

Rachel doesn't respond at first, and continues to cry into her neck. Naomi rubs gentle circles on her roommate's back with her free hand, worry increasing as Rachel's crying continues to increase.

"B-Because she said s-she was in l-love with me," Rachel finally chokes out, and Naomi frowns in confusion.

She holds Rachel against her and rests her chin on top of her head. Her eyes catch sight of Rachel's laptop screen in her peripheral vision, and when she sees the photo on the screen again, her heart clenches in understanding.

"Shhh, I've got you," Naomi whispers against the top of her head, guiding them to lay back on the bed.

When her roommate seems to finally understand, Rachel loses it.

"I-Is it really t-that easy to g-get over m-me?" Rachel cries into her shoulder, and Naomi clenches her jaw in frustration at how simply Quinn has just played right into Rachel's worst insecurities.

"I really doubt it, babe," Naomi soothes, rubbing circles against her back.

"T-then why? It's b-barely been two  _weeks_!"

"I'm not sure, Rach," Naomi speaks gently. "But…didn't you want her to try to move on?" she questions hesitantly.

"Y-yeah. But I meant…I want her to f-find someone. Someone to fall in l-love with. I didn't mean m-meaningless hook-ups! How can she b-be intimate with someone else t-this soon s-so easily?"

Naomi sighs in frustration, not even sure how to handle Rachel's questions. What answers does she have? Quinn is the one who needs to be doing the explaining here, not her. All Naomi can do is guess about what the hell Quinn's been doing.

"Do you think she meant it?" Naomi asks in a near whisper.

"Meant what?"

Rachel lifts her hand to wipe at her eyes, forcing herself to breathe deeper and calm down a little. She rests her damp palm against Naomi's stomach and snuggles into her shoulder.

"When she confessed she was in love with you. Did it seem like she really meant it? I mean, I can't imagine she didn't, but…"

"She meant it," Rachel replies immediately with a quiet sniff, and Naomi is surprised by how sure she sounds. "I may have been totally blindsided by Quinn's confession, and there may be some things I still don't understand. But…the way she looked at me when she told me, Naomi. There's no way she was lying. Plus, what would she have to gain by making something like that up?"

"Then I really have no idea what's going on, Rachel," Naomi admits with a sigh.

"It's simple, really," Rachel mumbles quietly, and Naomi hates how broken her roommate sounds. "Either you're right somehow, and Quinn wasn't in love with me to the extent that she claimed she was. Or…she  _was_ honest and I'm just…really easy to get over. Either way…what does that say about me?"

"It says  _nothing_  about you," Naomi emphasizes immediately. "I don't know what Quinn's deal is, but the point is- it's  _Quinn's_  deal, not yours. This doesn't reflect back on you, Rachel."

"Of course it does," she whispers in reply. "Even though I didn't reciprocate Quinn's feelings when she confessed them to me, she's still…she's the first person that's ever claimed to love me-  _all_ of me, not just the parts that are easier to love- and truly look like she meant it. And now she's already moved on to other people. How does that  _not_  reflect back on me?"

Rachel's voice is so timid, insecure. It's a far cry from the Rachel Berry that Naomi has come to know and love. And she hates that her roommate has been reduced to this.

Naomi places her hand against the side of Rachel's head and pulls gently, forcing Rachel to look at her.

"Rachel Berry, you are so lovable and you don't even realize it," Naomi states, looking directly into her teary eyes. "Any person would be  _lucky_  to get to be with you, and show you that love. Whatever's going on with Quinn- does  _not_  mean that you are forgettable. Or unlovable. Ever."

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut as tears leak out, and Naomi lifts one hand to help wipe them away.

She hums in protest at Naomi's words, but Naomi ignores her.

"I dated a girl in high school," Naomi states quietly, and Rachel blinks her eyes open in confusion. "When I was a junior," she continues. "Her name was Sarah. I was so head over heels for her, it was insane. She was the most interesting person I'd ever met. At the beginning of the year, she was assigned to be my bio lab partner. That's how we met. She was new, had transferred high schools. We hit it off."

Rachel wipes at her eyes and listens to Naomi with interest, not really sure where this story is going but appreciating the distraction.

"She was very insecure about her appearance. Her mother was very critical of her and she had an older sister who was the magazine definition of beauty. I loved Sarah. But our relationship became difficult, because she  _never_  believed how beautiful she was to me. It was heartbreaking, because it was almost like she didn't trust me. Over winter break, I realized that she really  _didn't_  trust me."

Naomi pauses at this point, and looks at Rachel, checking to see if she's still paying attention. Rachel can sense that the reason for her roommate telling this story is about to unfold.

"Someone started a rumor that I kissed this guy at a party. Just a stupid thing to start drama with a girl who had a thing for the guy. It was idiotic people meddling. Not many people actually believed the rumor. But Sarah was away on vacation when the rumor spread, and the guy they claimed I kissed was one of the more popular guys at our school. Sarah believed the rumor."

Rachel's eyes widen and Naomi nods, continuing.

"I told her every day how amazing I thought she was, and she would never fully accept it. But the first time someone claimed that I  _didn't_  believe that about her, she accepted it immediately. It hurt like crazy, that she could so easily believe the lies but not the truth. By the time school started again, we had broken up."

Rachel frowns in sympathy and waits for Naomi to continue, but she remains quiet.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't ever want you to feel that way," Naomi states quietly. "Like there's something about you that's fundamentally unlovable or not beautiful. And I'm saying…don't be so quick to believe the immediate story like Sarah did. There's a picture of Quinn kissing some girl online. But we have no idea what the context is, or what she's been feeling since everything happened in New Haven. But regardless of Quinn's reasons, it doesn't say anything about  _you_ , okay?"

Rachel looks back at Naomi for a few seconds and then finally nods. She's still hesitant, but at least she seems to really be listening.

"Is it possible to have more than one best friend?" she asks quietly, and Naomi laughs.

"Of course it is. But what on earth brought on that question?"

"Because I think you're becoming my best friend. Another one, I mean. I never had a best friend, not until the end of high school with Quinn. But now it's like I have two."

Naomi smiles widely and Rachel can't help but smile too.

"Hey, now you've got a long distance best friend and a local best friend," Naomi jokes with a wink.

Rachel laughs and shoves at her shoulder lightly.

"Do you want to watch some Friends re-runs until we hear from Quinn?" Naomi asks. "I know you won't be able to focus on school stuff right now."

"That sounds good," Rachel nods, and she tries to suppress her worry for Quinn that's returning strongly at Naomi's mention of her.

Naomi gets up from her bed and moves over to the shelf, picking a random DVD from the Friends box set that Rachel brought to school with her. She loads it into her laptop and sets her computer on Rachel's bed, pressing play.

Rachel is sitting up now, and she rests her back against the headboard while Naomi snuggles up next to her.

It doesn't take longer than a minute for Rachel to realize that Naomi happened to choose one of her favorite episodes. Still, she can't bring herself to laugh. The episode serves as a good mindless distraction, but she's too worried about Quinn to really be able to enjoy it.

She knows that Naomi can tell how distracted she is, but thankfully Naomi ignores it, choosing to focus on the computer screen instead.

Right around the time when the first episode ends, Rachel's phone begins to ring on her desk. She jumps up immediately to answer it, even though the ring tone tells her that Quinn isn't the one who is calling.

When she checks the caller ID, she feels her heart rate increase and she immediately clicks the button to accept the call.

"Santana!"

"Oh thank god you answered, Berry.  _Please_  tell me you've heard from Quinn," Santana pleads.

"I haven't. God, I was hoping you were calling to say that  _you_  had. I texted her three times a little less than an hour ago when I saw the pictures, but I haven't heard from her."

"Carajo! ¿Donde esta?" Santana shouts into the phone.

"Santana…?"

"Where the hell is she? She hasn't returned my call and I'm afraid I'll freak her out if I call too many times. But god  _damn it_!She's in fucking New Haven and she just got outed and I don't know where the hell she  _is_!" Santana rants, voice thick with tears.

Rachel feels tears sting at her eyes when she hears how worried Santana is. They've never managed to get past being anything other than surface level friends. But hearing from someone who loves Quinn and knows her from Lima is getting to her.

"I know, Santana. I know," Rachel answers with just as much worry. "I don't know what to do."

"Get on a fucking bus or something! You're only a couple hours away, right?" she asks desperately.

"I am," Rachel confirms, wiping at her eyes. "But we're barely on speaking terms right now. I can't just show up at Yale."

"You guys aren't talking?" Santana sounds completely surprised by this. Apparently, Quinn hasn't told her what happened.

"Not really. I don't want to explain right now, Santana. But I haven't heard from her. And I don't think I can go to her."

"Whatever. Big fucking help you are," Santana bites back, and Rachel cringes.

"Santana…"

"No, forget it. Just  _call_  me if you hear from her, alright?"

"Okay," Rachel agrees.

"I'm serious, Rachel. Promise me."

"I promise, Santana."

She hears the line go quiet after that and when she pulls her phone away from her ear, she sees that Santana already disconnected the call.

"Santana hasn't heard from her?" Naomi asks from her spot on the bed.

Rachel shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself, shuffling back towards the bed.

"Naomi, now I'm scared," Rachel whimpers. "She hasn't even called Santana…"

Rachel can see the worry in Naomi's eyes too, but she reigns it for Rachel's sake.

"She's probably with someone at Yale. She has some kind of close friend there, right?"

"Her friend Jordan. They're pretty close. You'd think she would have called one of us by now though. At least Santana."

Naomi shrugs helplessly, and Rachel sits back down next to her, resting her head on Naomi's shoulder.

"I'm not gonna be able to sleep tonight until I hear from her," Rachel states quietly.

"I know. I'll be awake with you, Rach."

Rachel is quiet after that, and Naomi presses play on the DVD again, even though there seems to be some kind of sick irony to them watching a sitcom right now.

After a while, the characters and the laugh tracks are all kind of blurring together and she barely even notices when the episodes change two different times, moving on to the next on the disc.

They're about halfway through the third episode on the disc when Rachel can't stand it anymore. It doesn't matter if Quinn needs distance or not.  _She_  needs to know if her best friend is okay. At this point she's beginning to worry that Quinn did something horrible when she found out.

She pulls out her phone to send another text message, making the severity of her worry clear. If she doesn't get a response to this, she'll have to assume that either Quinn's phone is off, or something  _bad_  is going on.

_Quinn PLEASE tell me if you're okay! Santana called me a while ago and she still hadn't heard from you either. I know we're not on the best of terms right now but I'm so fucking worried about you. At this point I'm ready to call the New Haven police or something._

She sends off the text and rests her head back on Naomi's shoulder, seeking some minimal form of comfort as she clutches her cell phone in her hand.

About three minutes later, when she starts to feel the onset of legitimate panic, her phone beeps.

She jumps slightly at the sound, and she nearly cries in relief when she sees that the text is from Quinn.

"It's her," Rachel mumbles quickly, opening the message. She can feel Naomi sit up straight next to her and lean over her shoulder to see the message too.

_I talked to San and Britt. You can stop worrying. I'm fine._

Her instinctual reaction is to sigh in relief. Quinn is safe.

But that's quickly replaced by hurt.

"Seriously?" Naomi mutters when she reads the text too.

Rachel shakes her head and fires off a quick reply.

_Please don't push me away. Talk to me Quinn._

She only waits a couple of minutes, until everything about tonight catches up with her and then she's done.

"That's it, I'm done with this. There's no way she's fine right now. Even if she talked to Santana and Brittany. They may have calmed her down, but there's no way that everything is magically okay with her. I'm done pretending that this distance is helping us. It was at first but right now it's just stupid," Rachel rants and she stands up from the bed, dialing a number on her phone.

Naomi watches her as she paces back and forth and holds her phone to her ear, listening to it ring several times.

The call eventually goes to voicemail, which is infuriating, because Quinn  _just_  texted her. She listens to the automated instructions and psyches herself up to leave a message.

"Quinn, it's me. I don't know what you're getting at right now, but it is  _not_  okay. I get that we're not on the best of terms at the moment and things have been really awkward, but this is serious and I know you're not fine right now.  _Please_ , just call me. I've been so freaking worried about you ever since I texted you. What's going on right now is more important than us trying to give each other space. And quite frankly, I'm sick of this stupid distance. I  _miss_  you and worried  _sick_  about you, so would you please just call me? I love you, Quinn. Bye."

The message starts out firm and adamant. But by the time she reaches the end of her voicemail, her voice is wavering with emotion and there are tears collecting in her eyes.

She disconnects the call when she finishes and lets her body fall back onto the bed, landing next to Naomi.

"Now what?" Naomi asks quietly.

Rachel turns her head and blinks, eyelids heavy with emotional exhaustion.

"Now I rest here, and pray that she calls me back."

**XXxxXX**

At some point, even though she swore sleep would evade her, her eyes begin to droop. She isn't really asleep. It's more like she's caught in that state between sleep and awake, and she's just drifting.

She has no idea what time it is, but she knows it's been a while since she left Quinn her voicemail. That's why, when her phone does ring, she's completely disoriented. Her head snaps up and she reaches for her phone that she left on the nightstand. The alarm clock reads that it's just after midnight, but she knows that ringtone and she's not remotely tired anymore.

She knows that ringtone. That ringtone means Quinn is calling.

Naomi groans sleepily.

"Issat her?" she mumbles into her pillow.

"It's Quinn," Rachel confirms quietly, and she immediately clicks the green button to answer the call.

"Quinn?" she answers, calling her name anxiously.

"R-Rachel." A broken, tear-filled voice comes through her speaker, and Rachel feels her heart clench.

"Oh, thank god. Quinn, where are you?" she questions, grabbing her keys and exiting the room into the hallway so that Naomi can sleep. She knows that this isn't going to be a short conversation.

"In the basement study lounge of Branford," Quinn mumbles through tears in reply.

"What are you doing down there?"

Rachel speaks quietly, trying to figure out a place to have her phone conversation where she won't disturb her entire hall. She quickly decides that the stairwell is the closest place for her to have this phone conversation, and moves in that direction. She pushes open the stairwell door and drops down to the concrete landing, leaning her head back against the wall.

"It was the first empty place I could think of. My roommate just got home a few minutes ago."

"Talk to me, Q. What's going on?" she questions gently, closing her eyes as she rests her head against the cool concrete.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn whimpers. "I'm so sorry I tried to ignore you earlier."

Rachel can tell that Quinn is crying hard, and she needs her to calm down before they can really talk.

"Shhh, sweetheart, you need to breathe. I'm just glad you finally called. I've been so worried about you."

Quinn doesn't give any verbal reply, but Rachel can tell that she is working to calm herself down. The sounds of her crying begin to fade a little more, and she can hear Quinn sucking in deep breaths.

"I know this whole Facebook thing is scary right now, Quinn. But you're gonna get through this. I promise."

She hears Quinn exhale a few more deep breaths before she replies.

"I know. I'm gonna get through it. I'm scared to go home to Lima, but I know that San and Britt will be there with me. And they already talked to me about how I should deal with my parents," Quinn replies shakily, and Rachel hears her sniffle a few times as she speaks.

Rachel listens to her, and she can't help but feel a little confused. Quinn seems so upset, and yet she seems to be in a decent place about what happened earlier. She's certainly not okay with it, but it's not making her panic on the phone right now like Rachel was expecting.

So what is it that has her this upset if it's not what happened on Facebook?

"That's…that's good, Quinn," Rachel replies cautiously.

Something about Rachel's words or gentle tone sets Quinn off again, and now Rachel's  _really_  confused.

"Quinn, what is it?" she questions, and she hears the sound of Quinn crying even harder.

"I h-have n-no idea what I'm d-doing," Quinn sobs out, and Rachel can barely understand what she's saying.

"Shhh Q, breathe, honey. What do you mean?"

"W-with you. With O-Olivia. W-What am I doing?" Quinn cries, and Rachel can tell that the girl is absolutely lost in her own head right now. She just needs to let Quinn cry this one out. They're not going to get anywhere until Quinn manages to calm herself down.

She hears the sobs wrack Quinn's body and she knows that any words she speaks right now will go completely unheard.

So she does the only thing she can think of to calm Quinn down.

" _Everything's always better whenever you're around,_ " she sings the first song that comes to mind.

" _Whenever you're under dressed. I wanted to tell you then, to try the bird's nest. And it's the truth you know, that's always the issue. And when it starts gettin' blurry, one's never better than two."_

She hears Quinn's crying slowly start to quiet as she listens to her sing, and she knows that Quinn is aware of exactly what song she's singing.

" _There's a place in this world, where people like me are found by people like you. So find a place as this forever divine. Oh yeah, you're the best damn friend that I'll ever have. You'll always smile upon me when the season's bad. You'll always make me feel best even when I'm blue."_

She hears Quinn hiccup slightly when she reaches that last line, and when she reaches the final line of the verse, she sings with every ounce of honesty and feeling that she has left in her.

" _You'll always smile upon me and I'll smile upon you too._ "

She swears she can hear Quinn hum quietly on that last line.

"It's our song," Quinn murmurs quietly, sniffling.

Rachel hums in agreement and closes her eyes.

"Always. Passion Pit is ours, Quinn. But especially that one."

"I know," Quinn whispers, and it sounds like she has finally calmed down a bit.

"Do you want to talk right now?" she asks hesitantly, and she knows that Quinn can see how much she's matured in that she even asked. In the past, she would have insisted that they talk about everything right then and there. But she knows better now, and she's grown to be a little more patient when it matters most.

"Is it okay if I say no?" Quinn sounds so timid when she asks.

"It's okay," Rachel assures gently. "What do you want me to do then?"

"Can you maybe…sing some more? Or even just hum? I think I'm gonna go back to my room and maybe I can lay down and just listen. W-would that be okay…?"

"Yeah. Go lay down, Quinn."

She hears the faint sound of rustling around as Quinn stands up and exits whatever room she's in.

"I promise I want to talk to you. For real this time. I'm just so tired by everything right now, Rach. And you deserve my full attention when we talk about all this."

"I understand," Rachel assures softly. "It's been an emotional day for both of us. Just lie down in bed, Quinn."

"Mmmk," Quinn hums sleepily. It's quiet for a couple minutes aside from the sound of Quinn's breathing, and then she hears the sound of a door shutting on the phone.

"I'm in my room now," Quinn whispers. "Jessica just went to sleep. I'm gonna put my phone speaker volume on low and maybe you can just sing or hum for a little bit. I just…I miss you. And your voice is…your voice is comforting."

Rachel can barely understand what Quinn says because she whispers so softly. But she thinks the reason for her mumbling is more out of shyness than respect for her roommate.

Rachel stretches her legs out on the concrete of the stairwell and begins to hum some unintelligible tune. It's a whole mix of songs that blur in and out together, and she closes her eyes, lulling Quinn into sleep.

They have so much to work out between them.

But for tonight, Rachel is content with this.

Because she has her Quinn back.

And even though the road ahead is going to be really hard, at least they won't be walking separately anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song that Rachel sang is "Smile Upon Me" by Passion Pit.


	32. Chapter 32

It's early evening when she finally lands in Dayton.

Since she skipped her early afternoon class, she's able to get back to Ohio at a decent time.

Now she has to drive an hour and twenty minutes with her sister to actually get to Lima.

Yeah, Francine is the one who picked her up. That was an awkward reunion.

Things haven't been good with them since before they hit puberty, and they haven't gotten better since. But at least she was cordial enough to give her a brief hug and a tight-lipped smile before walking towards the airport parking lot.

They're riding north on the I-75 in silence, and she wishes that Santana and Brittany's flight hadn't gotten in earlier than hers so that they could have driven together. Santana didn't even bother going to class today, and the two of them just took a morning flight.

She gazes out the window and watches the sun rest on the edge of the horizon, the small towns of western Ohio racing past her.

There's an odd mixture of relief and nervousness when they reach the city limits of Lima. Relieved that this painfully quiet car ride with her sister is almost over, but nervous because…

Well, because she's back in Lima.

They drive past the Target shopping center and a few neighborhoods that she easily recognizes. She can't help but smile to herself when they reach the traffic light corner where Breadstix is located.

It's all so familiar.

And yet it all feels so different.

When they pull into the driveway, Frannie turns to look at her for the first time since they got in the car.

"Mom and dad are excited you're home," she admits quietly, turning off the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt. "Even if they don't act like it. They haven't been able to shut up about you and Yale for the past two days. I know you're not exactly thrilled to be back," she says, rolling her eyes and smiling in understanding. Quinn gives her a knowing look and briefly returns her smile.

"But try not to get confrontational with them," she continues. "I don't know what the hell was up with that facebook drama." Quinn freezes, but Frannie continues talking. "Just let dad say his piece about it and move on, okay?"

Her older sister gives her a look, and Quinn understands immediately. They're doing this the Fabray way- brushing anything that's tainted under the rug and leaving it there to hide.

She nods in acceptance, and Frannie opens her door, unlocking the trunk for Quinn.

"You don't have much stuff to carry, so I'll meet you inside," Frannie says, already leaving her at the car to go in the house.

She grabs her backpack and small suitcase before shutting the trunk, clicking the lock button on her keys and walking up the brick front entryway of her childhood home.

She turns the door handle and hesitantly steps into the foyer, setting her suitcase and backpack down in the corner. There's a mirror along the wall right near her, and she nervously checks her appearance as she hears the sound of her mother's shoes approaching from around the corner.

"Quinn, honey, you're home!" Her mother, impeccably dressed as always, greets her as she enters the room.

"Hi, mom," she answers, awkwardly reciprocating her mother's stiff hug before pulling away.

Her mother steps back and surveys her with interest, and she flinches under her scrutiny.

"You've put on a little weight since I last saw you," she notes flippantly, and Quinn shifts her eyes to the ground.

"Seriously, mom?" Frannie questions incredulously from her place by the staircase.

"Sorry, just an observation," she says in a patronizing tone. "Anyway, it's so nice to see you again, Quinn. Come in, come in. Sit down and get warmed up."

She nods and shrugs off her coat, hanging it up in the closet while her mother continues to talk.

"So how was your flight? Not too much turbulence, I hope."

"It was fine, mom."

Quinn rolls her eyes with her back turned before turning to face her with a polite smile.

"Would you like something to drink? Or maybe some food? Have you eaten, dear?"

"I'm okay," she replies, following her mother into the living room. "If it's okay, I'd really like to say hi to dad and then get my stuff settled upstairs. It's been a long day and we'll have all of break to catch up."

"Oh, I'd forgotten. You had class today too, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

Quinn rubs at the back of her neck awkwardly and glances around the living room.

"I understand, sweetie. Your father is in his study if you want to see him. I don't think he heard you two arrive. But feel free to relax and get settled if you'd like. We can chat tomorrow morning while we get the food ready."

A part of her is a little upset by how willing her mother is to leave her alone and not talk to her when they haven't seen each other in months.

But mostly, she's just relieved that she can spend some time alone adjusting before she faces the onslaught of her family tomorrow.

"Thanks. And mom?"

"Yes?"

Quinn looks up and takes a couple steps forward.

"If it's okay, I might go for a drive in a bit. I kind of want to drive around Lima for a little while. I want to see some of the old places on my own because I know things are going to be super busy tomorrow."

"But don't you want to wait until it's light out again? The sun's already set now."

"I know. I just…I really want to drive around for a bit and get acclimated again."

Her mother pauses for a moment before eventually nodding.

"Okay, dear. Please be drive carefully though."

"I will. I'm gonna go see dad now," she replies, turning back towards the foyer to go greet her father. He'll be upset if she doesn't announce her arrival before she retreats to her room.

She grabs both of her bags and sets them outside the closed door of her bedroom upstairs before making her way to the end of the hall where her father's study is located.

She inhales a deep breath and knocks against the door.

"Come in," she hears the muffled voice of her father from within the room.

Her hand is against the door knob as she hesitantly enters his office, and her father looks up from a stack of papers when she enters.

"Quinn!" He looks up in surprise. "I didn't realize you were home. I must have lost track of time."

"Hi," she greets him nervously, diverting her eyes to the desk that he's working at.

"It's good to see you. I'm just going to finish reviewing this report, and then I'll be downstairs to talk," he replies, looking back down at the stack of papers.

"Okay. Umm…I'm actually going for a drive soon once I unpack. I told mom I wanted to get acclimated again, but I'm sure we'll catch up tomorrow."

"That's fine, Quinn," he answers distractedly.

"Alright. Well I'll…leave you be. Bye."

She shuts the door quietly behind her once she exits and exhales in relief. She can handle disinterested. Disinterested is familiar. As long as she doesn't have to deal with the facebook stuff tonight, she's satisfied.

Her bags are still resting against her bedroom door, and she bends down to pick them up, pushing down on the door handle and stepping inside. She flicks on the light switch next to her and softly drops her luggage down by her bed.

It all looks exactly the same.

She's not sure what she was expecting, but it's so strange to see how absolutely nothing has changed. The walls are still the same pale green that they used to be. The posters that she chose not to take to school are still hung in perfect symmetry against her walls.

She didn't expect it to be this weird to come back.

But it is. It really is.

Because she realizes just how much she's changed since she left this place, and yet everything here is the same. It's almost like she expected her old bedroom to evolve with her, but it hasn't. It's exactly the way she left it in September when she shut the door and ventured forward into the next chapter of her life.

This room is like a time capsule of the person she was before she left for college, where everything about her former self is perfectly preserved.

She thinks about Jordan being in this room, or maybe even Olivia. She really tries to picture it. But she can't. It's like they're two separate and distinct worlds that can't blend.

How does such a familiar place feel so foreign after just a few months?

She unpacks her bags methodically. Coming home is supposed to be comforting and reassuring, but that's not how it is for her. And she knew it would never be that way. Being back in this place weighs down on her, and forces back the memories of everything she tried to leave behind.

This place is familiar. But it's also suffocating.

Like internal claustrophobia, where everything she's worked to escape is pressing in on her thoughts again. And she just needs to escape it.

As soon as her bags are unpacked, she flicks off the light switch and closes the door behind her, jogging back down the stairs.

"I'm driving your car, Frannie!" she calls out from the foyer, grabbing the keys to her sister's car and exiting the house.

Relief swells through her once the cold air fills her lungs and the front door is securely shut behind her.

She sets her cell phone in the cup holder by the gear shift and turns the key in the ignition, reversing the car out of the driveway.

The car winds its way along all the streets that she used to play on when she was a little kid, and she's thankful when she finally reaches the stop sign for the main road.

She honestly doesn't know where she wants to drive. She just knows that she needs to.

The turns and stops that she makes are automatic, and she isn't aware of where she's driving until she brakes in an all too familiar parking lot.

The stadium lights aren't on, but there's a couple of lights that remain lit for security purposes, and she can clearly see the bleachers and the field.

She puts her beanie back on to keep her ears warm and buttons up her coat, stepping out of the car.

The gate looks like it's locked, but she knows that the chain is wrapped around with the padlock left open.

The metal creaks when she pulls the gate open and the crunch of her feet against the gravel breaks the still quiet of the night.

The red and white practice gear is stacked against the outside of the shed, and she briefly wonders if the football team has gotten any better since they graduated.

Probably not.

She has absolutely no idea what she's doing here. All she knows is that it's peaceful, and being here doesn't weigh down on her like it does when she's at home.

There's a comforting familiarity in sitting down on the old bleachers and staring out at the field and the track that wraps around it.

The worn out scoreboard stands behind the north side field goal post, and the faded red letters of  _McKinley High School_  are still etched along the top of it.

A gentle breeze blows through the cold air, and she wraps her scarf more tightly around herself, burrowing her hands in her coat pockets.

She stares at the red-brown track and then closes her eyes, letting the memories of the sweat and toil that she experienced out here flicker through her mind. She vividly sees Coach Sylvester with her blaring megaphone shouting threats at her team as she leads them in their final thirtieth lap around the track. She sees Brittany's hand against the back of Santana's back to make sure she doesn't collapse once they  _finally_ cross the finish line at the end of practice. She sees the Friday night lights, and the stands full of red and white, entire families showing up to support a team that will more than likely lose. She sees it all.

She sees the moments outside of the classroom that defined high school.

And then suddenly, her mind shifts and she feels the adrenaline that coursed through her as she walked the runway in Yale's grand ballroom in front of five hundred people.

She opens her eyes to the empty football field of McKinley and lets out a quiet laugh.

There was a time when she sat in this very spot after all of the other girls went home and watched the sun lower to the edge of the horizon. She remembers sitting here and convincing herself that she was normal, that it was okay to not be attracted to her boyfriend.

That her fixation on Rachel Berry was inconsequential and would fade soon enough. That she could be the person she so desperately wanted to be for her parents. That she could be like all the other girls, if those sinful thoughts would just dissipate.

If only freshman high school Quinn could have seen what freshman college Quinn would do. The difference between the two is so stark that she can't help but laugh.

" _Dear high school Quinn,"_  she thinks. " _Meet Olivia, the girl you'll be sleeping with during your first semester of college to avoid thinking about that other girl. You know, the one you're starting to have terrifying sinful thoughts about. Yeah, that one. That's not going to leave. You're going to fall in love with her. But she's going to be your best friend too. And it will be the best thing that ever happened to you, despite how hard it is sometimes."_

She shakes her head and softly kicks at the bleacher bench in front of her, marveling at how much things changed as the years passed.

"Well look what the ivy league winds blew in," a voice separate from her own breaks the still silence.

She jumps at the sudden intrusion and turns to face the new arrival. She's met with a wide genuine smile and her heart swells.

"Santana! What are you doing here?"

She stands up from her spot on the bleachers as the other girl quickly approaches her.

"What, I don't even get a hello before the interrogation starts?" she replies with a wink, stepping in front of Quinn.

"Come here, you loser," Quinn replies with a laugh, pulling her into a tight hug.

Santana's arms wrap around her back and she feels the girl squeeze back with small strong arms.

"God, I've missed you," Santana mumbles into the shoulder of her coat, and Quinn tightens her grip around Santana's shoulder blades.

"I've missed you too," she whispers into dark wavy hair. "Seriously though, what are you doing here?" she asks, eventually pulling away.

"I stopped by your house to see you when you didn't answer your cell and your mom said you went for a drive. I thought maybe you went to the Lima Bean or something, but then I saw Frannie's car in the parking lot when I drove past."

"Gotcha. That makes sense," she answers, smiling as she watches one of her best friends talk in front of her. It's hard to believe that Santana is actually here with her again, and she can see in her eyes that Santana feels the same way. They both can't stop smiling.

" _Question_ \- why the hell are you lurking out here on the empty bleachers? Of all the places in Lima.  _Really_ , Q?" Santana rolls her eyes and nudges Quinn with her elbow, looking out at the field as they stand together.

Santana rests her body against the railing and Quinn stands beside her, leaning into her warmth.

"I have no idea what I'm doing here," she admits, glancing at Santana's profile, and the other girl turns to her head to face her.

"You couldn't help but come back. I think I get it actually," Santana replies, and she can feel the girl looking at her face. She turns to meet Santana's eyes, and there is a moment of silent understanding that passes between them.

"Lots of memories," Quinn states quietly, turning back towards the field.

"Oh yes, lots of fond memories," Santana laughs. "Like the time I puked behind that shed over there after coach made us do wind sprints for an hour. Such sweet nostalgia," she sighs sarcastically and Quinn answers with a loud laugh, resting her head against Santana's shoulder.

"I'm so glad you're here," she confesses softly.

Santana reaches up and runs her hand against the back of her head a couple times, nails tracing gently through her hair. She's quiet for a moment before she speaks again.

"So…you're gay."

Quinn lifts her head to stare back at her friend, eyebrow raised.

"Seriously, San?" she questions with a laugh.

"What! I haven't seen you in person since you joined the rainbow train. I feel like we need a moment for this."

Santana glances at Quinn's eyes for a second and smirks before turning to face the field again.

"Bitch!" Quinn mutters, swatting at Santana's arm and facing the field too.

Santana just laughs loudly and Quinn smiles, rolling her eyes.

"Are the Yale women any good?"

She feels her face flush and she diverts her gaze down.

"I'm not talking about this with you right now," she deflects.

"So, later then?" Santana replies, smirking again.

"I hate you," she mutters in reply, and Santana only laughs louder.

"I bet they're good," Santana eventually replies, completely ignoring Quinn's discomfort. "Did you know Yale is known as the gayest ivy? I bet you did. I bet that's why you applied early decision."

"I hate you so much right now," Quinn mumbles, cheeks tinted pink.

"Love you too, Q," Santana replies, grinning back.

When Quinn finally manages to meet her eyes again, Santana is smiling at her and there's only a subtle hint of teasing in her eyes.

For the first time since she entered the Lima city limits, it feels good to be home.

**XXxxXX**

When she walks into the kitchen a little after nine in the morning, it already smells like Thanksgiving food.

"Geez, mom, what time did you start cooking?" she mumbles sleepily, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and filling it up with coffee.

"A couple of hours ago. We're having ten people over for dinner tonight, Quinn. I have to get an early start if I want to be able to make all of the side dishes myself."

"If so say so," she replies through a yawn.

She hears the sound of cheering and notices for the first time that her mom has the television turned on to the Macy's Day parade in the family room.

"It just started a few minutes ago," her mother explains when she sees Quinn look towards the television. "You can go watch it for a bit while you drink your coffee and wake up. I know how much you love the parade."

"Thanks," she answers, already moving towards the sofa in front of the television.

Every year she wakes up in time to watch the parade. It takes her about three minutes of staring at the screen and letting the caffeine get absorbed into her body before she realizes that Rachel is  _there_  right now.

She watches the cast of the West Side Story revival do their performance and thinks that Rachel must be having the time of her life.

**XXxxXX**

She's helping her mother chop vegetables for the stuffing when her father enters the kitchen wearing his reading glasses and carrying a newspaper.

"Ah, good morning, Quinn," he greets her, setting his paper down on the counter.

"Good morning," she replies politely.

"Helping your mother prepare dinner?"

"Yes," she answers as politely as possible, trying not to get confrontational like Frannie warned her.

"Good, good," her father states, setting his reading glasses down as well. "Quinn, if you could stop for a moment, I need to speak with you. Before things get too busy and guests start arriving later."

She feels her heart rate increase and sets her knife down against the cutting board, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What do you need to talk to me about?" she asks nervously, and she sees her mother continue to chop vegetables, completely ignoring the entire exchange.

"I think you already know. What happened on your facebook yesterday? I got calls from three different family members and two people from our church congregation." Quinn flinches when she can already detect the anger in her father's tone. "Since you're older now, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and let you tell me your version of what happened first. But don't you dare lie to me, Lucille Quinn."

Her hands tremble when her father uses her full original first name, something he hasn't done since he found out she was pregnant.

"I got drunk at a fraternity party," she admits with a slight stutter. "A friend of mine invited me. I was dancing with another girl and was pretty out of it, and she kissed me. I didn't push her away because I was drunk and not really paying attention. Someone took pictures of it, apparently."

She watches her father's face redden, and he crosses his arms, staring at her with disapproval.

"Do you think I'm paying nearly fifty grand a year for you to engage in illegal activities and partake in sinful behavior?" he questions, temper rising.

She flinches and lowers her eyes to the ground, noticing her mother's movements stop in her peripheral vision.

" _Do you_?" he repeats, shouting.

"No, sir," she states quietly, keeping her eyes lowered.

"I better not hear about anything like this happening again, Quinn. Or you'll be coming home to attend Ohio State on student loans that  _you_  will be paying off. I refuse to pay for an education that you don't take seriously. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now tell me about your classes. I'm going to assume that you haven't let your reckless behavior effect your academics."

Quinn exhales shakily and nods.

"My classes are going well. The professors at Yale are incredible and I've already learned so much. I'm really enjoying the subject material."

"Good. That's to good to hear. You'll have to tell us more about your classes at dinner tonight."

The way that he says it makes it clear that he wants to wait so that she can impress their guests.

"I will. I'd love to share what I've been learning," she replies to appease him, and she sees that his temper is finally settling.

"Excellent. Well, I'll leave you ladies to it. I know you have lots you need to get done, Judy. Quinn, be sure to help your mother with anything she needs."

Quinn nods, and she watches her father exit the kitchen.

Her mom doesn't say anything.

She just starts chopping the celery and onions again.

**XXxxXX**

By early evening, she has finished showering and styling her hair. She's in the middle of applying her make-up when she hears a soft knock at her door.

"Come in," she calls out in confusion.

She turns to see her mother step into the room and close the door behind her, and Quinn sets down her eyeliner.

"Do you need help with something?"

"No, no everything is ready," her mother answers, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"Then…" Quinn trails off awkwardly, waiting for her mother to explain her presence.

"We need to talk, honey," her mother states quietly.

The way that she says it makes dread settle in her stomach. She knows instinctually that whatever is coming is not good.

"What is it?" she asks, stepping towards her mother.

"Your aunt Tara is very proud that you're at Yale, you know. I think it's because neither of her children got accepted, so she's focused on you."

"Okay…" she replies slowly, trying to figure out where her mom is going with this.

"She likes to keep up with the different events happening on campus. She still receives her alumni newsletters and such."

"I…I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're implying, mom."

Her mother picks at a loose thread on her comforter before leveling her with a look.

"I know about the fashion show, Quinn."

She freezes in place and nearly drops her make-up bag, looking back at her mother with fear.

"Y-you what?"

"It was a huge event, Quinn. And your aunt Tara was really excited about it at first because she didn't realize what organization was sponsoring it. She just saw that they held a huge fashion show fundraiser in the grand ballroom. But then she saw the pictures up on the website."

Quinn feels her hands begin to shake and sets her make-up bag down on her dresser.

"You modeled clothes…for  _men_  in a fashion show for Yale's gay club, Quinn."

"It's LGBTQ, mom. Not a  _gay_  club," she replies instinctually, before clamping her mouth shut when she realizes what she just said.

"Regardless, those facebook photos weren't just a drunken mishap, were they?" she questions with a look.

Quinn keeps her head ducked down and feels tears begin to collect in the corner of her eyes. She is still for several moments before finally shaking her head.

"I thought not. Your father has no idea, Quinn. And I intend to keep it that way," she replies evenly.

"You…you know that I'm gay," Quinn whispers with disbelief, terrified.

"I do."

"And?"

She's not sure if her voice has ever sounded more timid or insecure.

"And that's your business. Don't make it this family's business, Quinn."

Quinn slowly raises her head to look at her mother, and sees all of the things that she is trying to communicate with her eyes alone.

"What are you saying, mom?" she questions quietly.

"I'm saying that if you value your education, you'll be smart and keep this quiet. You'll keep your father happy so he keeps paying for Yale."

"Are you…are you  _bribing_  me to pretend I'm straight for dad?"

For the briefest moment, she swears she can see remorse in her mother's eyes. But it vanishes before she can be even remotely sure.

"I'm not bribing. I'm warning you that you need to be smart about this. Recognize what the consequences will be if the truth gets out. And for heaven's sake, Quinn, be more careful with your social networking sites."

She nods to acknowledge her mother's words and then looks at her hesitantly.

"And w-what about you? What do you think about this?"

She has no idea why she even asks. Some masochistic part of her is actually seeking out her mother's approval, apparently.

"You're still my daughter, Quinn. But I don't think I'll ever be okay with this," she replies.

Quinn sniffles and quickly wipes the remaining tears from her eyes.

"I thought as much. Can you go now so I can finish getting ready? I don't want to be late for our guests."

She turns away from her mother and towards her nightstand, and she hears her bedroom door open and shut behind her after a moment.

She looks at herself in the mirror, and forces herself to neutralize her expression and hide her emotions.

It could be worse.

Her mom could have told her father and ruined her life.

She's thankful her mother had this much mercy at least. Because unlike a baby bump, this is actually a secret that the two of them can keep from her father long term.

And she's a Fabray.

Fabrays thrive on well-kept secrets.

**XXxxXX**

Dinner is exhausting.

She forgot how tiring it could be to play the perfect daughter role. It's been a while since she's had to do it and she's a little out of practice.

Still, she managed to slip back into the role with grace. And she saw her mother's smile of approval from across the table as she did so.

There's a fleeting moment where she wonders if Rachel would be disappointed in her if she could see what happened today.

But Rachel isn't a Fabray.

She wouldn't understand why this is the way that things work, and that it's out of her control.

When the guests finally leave and she finishes clearing the table with Frannie, she retreats to her room and changes out of her dress into more comfortable pajamas.

Her phone is sitting on her nightstand, and she realizes that she hasn't checked it at all because of the business the day.

She clicks open the screen and sees that she has a new media message from Rachel.

Quinn eagerly opens it, and she presses play on the video message immediately.

Rachel's face appears amidst a crowd of people on a New York City street.

" _Is it recording?"_  she asks loudly over the crowd to whoever is recording the message for her. Whoever it is gives her some kind of signal because she continues.

" _Hi, Quinn! I hope you're having a good holiday! Happy Thanksgiving! I love you and I miss you. Can we skype tomorrow? Bye!"_

She waves at the camera with a bright smile and then the video ends. There's a time limit for video messages, and she imagines that Rachel had to record this more than once to fit within the time limit.

That thought alone makes her smile even more than she already is because of Rachel's message, and she replays the video three more times before saving it to her phone.

She checks the time and realizes that it's kind of late, and decides against calling.

Instead, she types out a text message.

_Just got your video. You look like you had lots of fun today :) I miss you too and I would love to skype with you tomorrow. Maybe in the evening? I know you'll be with your dads during the day._

She sends the text and then moves over to the bathroom to wash her face and get ready for bed. A few minutes later, her phone buzzes with a new text and she clicks the button to read it.

_**it's a date. goodnight Quinn! sweet dreams.** _

She smiles at Rachel's brief but sweet message and types out a quick final reply.

_you too. goodnight Rach._

Today was rough. But the hardest part of her holiday break is over now.

She gets to skype with her best friend tomorrow. And she gets to hang out with Santana and Brittany after that.

Or, as Brittany is calling it, the unholy trinity reunion sleepover two thousand twelve edition.

She even made a facebook event for it.


	33. Chapter 33

They agreed on five pm, since Quinn is supposed to be at Brittany's house by seven o'clock for the sleepover.

If she's honest, she's a little jealous that they're all going to be hanging out together without her. But they need this. Quinn needs this. It will be good for the three of them to hang out alone together for the first time since they all split off for college.

It's 4:58 pm now, and she's actually in her dorm room. Her fathers are staying in a hotel nearby and they spent the whole day shopping and sightseeing, but she asked if she could have a couple hours to herself.

They agreed, and she thinks it's mainly because she finally told them what's been going on with her and Quinn. Their advice wasn't that helpful. Because her parents were good friends and one of them had feelings for the other, but now they're  _married_  and that's just awkward and intimidating when it comes to making comparisons to her current situation. But she appreciated their sympathy, and they were fine with giving her a couple of hours to be by herself and talk to Quinn.

So now it's 4:58 pm and she's sitting in front of her computer logged onto Skype and ready to call. She can see the little green check mark next to Quinn's name already, but she decides to grant the both of them those final two minutes. They probably need them.

She  _knows_  that she does. She hates how nervous she is. Quinn is her best friend. She shouldn't be nervous to Skype with her, something that they've done dozens of time.

But she's nervous. Most definitely nervous.

When the clock turns to five pm, Quinn is actually the one who ends up calling  _her_ , rather than the other way around, and the chiming noise startles her for a moment.

She accepts the call after a couple of rings, and Quinn's face fills her laptop screen for the first time in quite a while.

"Quinn," she murmurs, breathlessly. Nervous.

Quinn gives her a small smile in return and bites her lip. It's not her flirty playful lip bite though. It's her anxious lip bite. There's totally a difference between the two. And this is definitely the anxious one.

"Hey, Rach," she greets softly, and then ducks her head down, sudden shyness taking over. "Did you have a good holiday yesterday?" she asks, raising her eyes slowly.

"Oh my gosh, it was so much fun!" She instantly feels a little more at ease now that they have a solid conversation topic to start them off. "I went to the parade with my dads and we had to wake up at like five in the morning to get a good standing spot, but it was totally worth it."

Quinn's smile widens, and so she continues talking.

"The balloons always looked pretty big on tv, but those things are  _gigantic_ in real life! It takes like thirty people to keep one of them from blowing away and they make these giant shadows on the street because they're so big. And did you see that the West Side Story revival cast was there?" she asks, not really waiting for an answer. "I bet you did, because I know you told me once that one of your favorite things about Thanksgiving is watching the parade. And I'm pretty sure they were lip synching even though they're a Broadway cast, because I think that's just protocol for the parade because of the technology and stuff," she continues to rush out. "But I had such a great time with my dads, and there were several fantastic performances, and oh Quinn, did you see that Kermit the frog balloon? I know you don't like people knowing that you like the Muppets, but that balloon was so  _cute_  with the-"

"Rach," Quinn finally cuts in gently. "I'm…I'm glad you had a good time at the parade." Quinn really does look like she means it. "And you're welcome to tell me  _all_  about it in multiple paragraph detail. But…you don't have to keep talking about the parade just because you're afraid this call might get uncomfortably quiet."

Rachel lowers her eyes and feels her cheeks flush a little at how easily Quinn saw right through her and her plan.

"It's…I have a feeling this is gonna get awkward no matter what at some point soon enough," Quinn continues. "But I promise I'm here to talk it out with you. And even if it gets awkward, I'm not going to hang up on you."

She chews on her lip in silence for a moment and stares back at Quinn, who is looking at the video of her closely.

"You promise?"

"I swear, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here until we talk about everything we need to."

"Even if you're late for your sleepover?" Rachel questions, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.

"Two hours, Rach? Seriously?" Quinn replies with amusement, eyebrow quirked.

"I'm known to be quite verbose." Quinn just gives her a look that says  _no kidding_. "And  _you're_  known to avoid talking about feelings at all costs. This could take a while."

She rolls her eyes and chuckles a little at that, and Rachel settles back into her chair for the first time since Quinn dialed.

It's quiet for a moment, but surprisingly not in an uncomfortable way. Until Quinn leans forward and rests her chin on her knee that's bent up, staring at her through the camera with this indescribable look.

"Do you have  _any_  idea how much I've missed you?"

Rachel feels her heart swell, a warm feeling spreading through her chest, and she swallows thickly.

"If it's anything like I've been feeling, I have a pretty good idea," she replies, sniffling a couple of times.

No. She's not allowed to cry yet. They have  _so much_  they need to get through before she lets her emotions overtake her.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn states brokenly, and those hazel eyes look so painfully vulnerable right now.

"For what?" She quirks her head sideways a little in confusion.

"For ruining everything," she replies quietly.

"Q, what are you talking about?" She looks at the video image of Quinn with concern. "You haven't ruined anything."

"Yes, I have," Quinn counters, shaking her head. "Look at us, Rach. Confessing my feelings to you was one of the stupidest things I've ever done."

"Stop. Stop that right now," Rachel frowns. "Being true to yourself is never a bad thing, Quinn."

"It is when you start to lose the people you care about the most," she replies bitterly.

"You haven't lost me," she consoles. "Look at your computer screen. I'm right here, Q."

Quinn wipes her index finger below each of her eyes to erase the gathering moisture and shrugs her shoulders silently.

"Is that what you've been thinking? That you lost me somehow?" Rachel questions with a little hurt in her voice. How could Quinn possibly think that?

"The people that matter the most are always the ones who leave when I fuck up."

"I haven't left you, Quinn," Rachel states quietly.

"But you did. You did leave, " Quinn mumbles, sniffling. "I told you I loved you and you left. You took a bus in the middle of the night because you couldn't deal with me."

Rachel pauses and lowers her head before looking back at the screen with new resolve.

"Quinn, I want to talk to you about this. But I don't think I can if you're gonna build a wall around yourself and put all the blame on me. You have to at least try to see where I was coming from."

Quinn looks angry for about a second and a half before her face calms and she nods her head.

"You're…you're right, I'm sorry. I've been kind of a bitch, ignoring how  _you've_  been affected by all this."

Rachel rubs at her temple with her right hand and sighs.

"I'm so sorry I left you, Q. I can only imagine how hard it was for you to admit that to me. But can you…can you try to see how maybe it was hard for me too?"

Her voice sounds so timid that she's surprised Quinn can even understand her, but Quinn stares back and nods hesitantly. The last thing she wants Quinn to think is that she's being callous and selfish. She just needs Quinn to understand the ways that this has affected  _each_  of them.

"I came to visit you, expecting to hang out with you and see you in this awesome fashion show. And then…suddenly I'm put in this situation where I'm inevitably going to break your heart. And that…that  _sucked_. That really fucking  _sucked_." Quinn looks up sharply at that and stares intently at her. "It was awful, knowing that I was going to hurt you no matter what. And then I just hurt you even  _more_ , because  _I_  was hurt when I finally understood everything between us in high school. You think I enjoyed running away in the middle of the night?"

Quinn wipes at the corner of her eye with her sleeve and shakes her head.

"I just knew I'd hurt you even more if I stayed," Rachel continues. "Because  _I_  was feeling hurt and scared, and I tend to take those sorts of feelings out on other people. You and me are similar that way, unfortunately," she adds, smiling sadly. "I won't deny that I also had selfish reasons for leaving. I was upset and you know I have a thing for storm outs."

"They've never involved crossing state borders though," Quinn answers with a teary laugh, and Rachel smiles too.

"How…how have you been, Quinn? I wasn't able to be for there you then in the way that you needed me to be, wanted me to be. But I'm here now. So tell me- how are you, really?"

Quinn inhales deeply and then blows out a large puff of air, making her bangs flutter, and rubs her palm against her jean-clad knee.

"Yesterday was rough," she admits.

"Yesterday?" Rachel frowns in confusion, concerned.

"Umm…my therapist made me realize that I do better with sharing if I start with the  _recent_  shitty stuff and then work back," Quinn replies awkwardly, ducking her head in embarrassment.

The fact that Quinn recognizes and can actually admit that about herself proves how far she's come in the past few months.

"Hey, that's completely fine, Q," she assures gently. "Tell me what happened yesterday."

Quinn may still struggle with opening up, but at least she's willing to try with someone she trusts.

"My father confronted me about the facebook pictures." Rachel's eyes widen, but she remains quiet, trying to allow Quinn space to talk. "It actually could have been a lot worse. He was pissed and made some comments about him not paying a bunch of money for me to goof off and do  _sinful_  things. But he believed me when I said I was drunk and Olivia kissed me."

Olivia? Why is that name familiar?

And then she remembers when Quinn was an absolute wreck on the phone a couple of days ago and said that she had no idea what she was doing.

With Olivia.

Suddenly, her stomach is in knots when it really has no right to be. But now it's clear that whatever happened with this Olivia girl was way more than a random make out session.

She fights to keep away all those insecurities that she talked about with Naomi, so that she can focus on what Quinn is sharing.

"That's good…right? I mean, you kind of expected it to be rough. At least it went as well as it could have," she responds, cautiously optimistic.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Quinn sighs, and she realizes right then that something worse happened later.

"What is it, Quinn?"

"My mom came up to my room while I was getting dressed for dinner. She…she admitted that she knows things that my dad doesn't."

Now Rachel is legitimately worried, especially when Quinn lowers her eyes and goes quiet.

"Q?" she questions softly, voice full of worry.

When Quinn raises her eyes again, they're brimming with tears, and the knot in her own stomach tightens.

"My mom saw pictures of me in the fashion show," Quinn whispers, and Rachel instinctually covers her mouth with her hand. "She…she knows I'm gay, Rach."

"Quinn…"

"She said she wasn't going to tell my dad," Quinn continues, lost in her own thoughts and ignoring the terrified and sympathetic look on Rachel's face. "But she said I needed to be careful. That if I want him to keep paying for Yale, then I'll be smart and continue to play straight for him."

Rachel swears she can taste something like bile rising in her throat.

"What did you say?" she asks, and she's actually kind of scared of the answer.

"I didn't say anything. She said her piece and then I told her I needed to finish getting ready. She left the room after that."

"I'm…I'm  _so_  sorry, Quinn."

What else can she say? She has no idea what it's like to grow up in a household where she can't be true to herself. And she can't exactly tell Quinn to wave her pride flag and be true to herself in the face of adversity. Not when her entire college fund is riding on maintaining the allusion of her heterosexuality.

Quinn shrugs and wipes at her eyes again.

"I didn't really expect any different," she replies. "Still sucks though," she adds in a mumble.

She can sense that Quinn really has nothing left to say about the situation with her parents. This  _just_  happened yesterday, and there's still so much to process.

"How've you been with the whole facebook thing? Aside from your parents, I mean."

"Well, the only Lima person I saw on Wednesday was Santana. And yesterday I was with my family all day. None of my extended family said anything at dinner though, because that's not how this family works. They'll talk about it when I'm not around. But I haven't seen anyone else yet, so."

Rachel nods and licks at her lips nervously. This question is going to be harder than anything else so far, but she needs to know.

"Quinn?" she questions hesitantly.

"Hmm?"

Quinn seems to pull herself out of her own thoughts.

"Who…who's Olivia?"

Quinn's expression freezes on the screen, and for a moment she wonders if the actual Skype call froze.

But then Quinn blinks slowly and scratches at the end of her eyebrow, a clear tell that she's uncomfortable.

"It's not that I'm…" Rachel stumbles, awkward. "Look, I'm here for you, whatever's going on. It just…it seems like she's played a big role in how things have been with you lately, and we're trying to work through stuff, so…"

Quinn stares resolutely at her desk for several moments, and then finally nods to herself slightly in what appears to be resignation. When Quinn finally does look up again, Rachel is legitimately impressed that she's able to look everywhere  _but_  at Rachel, even while she faces her computer screen.

"She's…we have an arrangement."

Rachel raises her eyebrow, and watches as Quinn's cheeks flush pink.

"What kind of arrangement?"

Quinn pauses and bites into her lip roughly, watching Rachel's face for her reaction.

"The kind where you sleep together," she finally admits, and Rachel is surprised that Quinn is actually looking at her video frame when she says it.

The knot in her stomach twists painfully, though. And it feels like someone's got an uncomfortable grip on her heart now too.

Rachel feels her lower lip tremble slightly, and clears her throat a couple of times just to make sure she doesn't stutter pathetically when she replies.

"You had sex with her?"

It ends up coming out in a pained whisper.

Quinn's eyes flash with some emotion that she can't identify, and when she speaks again the mask is firmly in place.

"Yes. And?"

Her voice is so cool and defensive, such a contrast to the Quinn from a moment ago, that she has to work to keep this Quinn from getting to her.

"But you said…"

That you're in love with me. That you've loved me for years. That you don't do casual sex.

So many ways to finish that sentence, but they all sound like an accusation. And the last thing she needs to do is accuse this Quinn who is already _so_  guarded. This Quinn might just back out on her promise from earlier and hang up if she says these things out loud.

Quinn seems to catch the implied accusations in her tone anyway though.

"You told me you wanted me to move on, Rachel.  _You_  told me that. In that stupid email you sent after you ran away. You don't  _get_  to be upset by how I try to do what  _you_  asked me to do."

She recoils as if burned, but she can see a crack in this Quinn's mask, and so she forces herself to remain collected.

"I didn't mean have sex with the first willing girl, Quinn! I meant move forward and try to find someone else to give your heart to, someone who can make you  _happy_  in the way that you deserve."

Dammit, she wasn't supposed to yell yet. But voices are definitely getting raised now.

"Well excuse me for not knowing how to do that with someone who isn't  _you_!" Quinn shouts in return, and she clamps her hands over her mouth as soon as the outburst escapes her lips.

Rachel hears her choke back a sob from behind her hands, and just like that the mask is shattered.

Quinn buries her face in her palms, curling into her knees as her feet rest on the seat of her chair. Rachel watches her shoulders tremble as she hides behind her bent legs.

Oh god, Quinn really is completely in love with her.

She hasn't moved on at all.

And now Rachel feels like an idiot.

"Shhh Quinn, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she speaks softly. "You're right. You're trying to deal with this the best that you can. I just want you to be happy, Q. I hate that you're not happy, and I hate even more than I'm the reason you're constantly hurting."

Quinn doesn't do anything other than cough a couple of times through her crying, and really the only blessing right now is that Quinn hasn't hung up on her.

She watches Quinn for several moments and all she can see is a mess of blonde hair and small hands gripping calves.

"You really are in love with me," Rachel murmurs in slight awe, more to herself than anything, but Quinn hears her.

She looks up from behind her legs, and her face is a teary mess, but there's this  _look_  of absolute incredulity on her face.

"Did you think I  _wasn't_?" she asks in disbelief. "Did you think me spilling my guts to you in New Haven was just for kicks or something?"

"No, it's not like that," she assures, words rushing out of her mouth. "I believed you when you told me, Quinn. How could I not? But I just…why me?" she asks with terrifying vulnerability. "Of all the people in the world, I can't understand why you're in love with  _me_."

Quinn makes some effort to compose herself for the first time, and rubs both of her sleeves against her face. She's still a mess, but it's slightly better.

"Your nose does this cute scrunchy thing when you laugh really hard," Quinn states, sniffling a couple more times and wiping at her eyes again.

Her comment throws Rachel completely off guard.

"What?"

"You care  _so much_  and it doesn't bother you that people can see it. You celebrate your unending empathy for others and you make no apologies for it."

Quinn is looking at the computer screen again, and she has this determined look on her face that Rachel doesn't think she's seen before. Not recently at least. So she lets Quinn continue on whatever confusing point she's trying to make. Something about her nose scrunching and how much she cares about people.

"Your singing voice makes me believe that all the indefinable beauty those sappy poets write about might actually be real, because I legitimately don't know how your voice exists otherwise."

She realizes that Quinn's comments aren't really connected at all. She's  _listing_  things. And even though she looks a little scared, she also looks like she's been wanting to say this for a while.

It's all the things she never got to say in New Haven because Rachel freaked out and then she got mad, and who would spill their heart out after that?

She's got no idea why Quinn is doing it  _now_.

Maybe it's because she's reached the point where she has nothing left to lose anymore by sharing the complete truth.

Quinn clears her throat and wipes away the remaining tears on her cheeks that she didn't catch the first couple of times. She swallows thickly and takes a deep breath, then continues with newfound determination.

"You've got this dry sarcastic sense of humor that you don't let a lot of people see, because you're afraid you'll upset them and they won't like you. So you only use it around the people you trust to realize you're kidding. But when you do, it's one of the funniest things ever. It's amazing, and one of the best things about becoming your friend was learning what your real sense of humor is like."

Quinn is actually smiling a little now, and Rachel ducks her head shyly.

"You're absolutely gorgeous." Quinn blushes, but she maintains eye contact. And when Rachel makes an unintelligible noise in protest, purely on instinct, Quinn's eyes get this serious look and she reiterates, "I mean it. Every inch of you. Gorgeous."

"You're a total spaz when you bake in the kitchen because you get really excited about what you're doing and then you forget what you've already added to the mixing bowl. And I'm kind of convinced that the reason you made 'I'm Sorry' cookies so often is because they're the only ones you knew you could do on your own without the possibility of screwing up."

She tries to pout, but really it turns into a smile after a few seconds, despite how hard she tries to fight it.

"And when I made you listen to Passion Pit for the first time, you got this really funny look on your face because you thought they sounded weird. But you kept listening, because you knew how much I loved it and you wanted to give it a chance."

Rachel laughs because it's true. The first time she heard  _Sleepyhead_  she pulled the ear-bud out of her ear because she thought the ipod was malfunctioning.

"You give the things I love a chance. You gave  _me_  a chance when no one else really would. When everyone else had sort of given up or moved on."

There's tears at the corners of her eyes when Quinn gets serious again.

But they're good tears.

They're the kind of tears she hasn't had in quite a while.

Quinn has some too, but they might still be her recovering from earlier. She's not really sure.

"I know you're not in love with me. Not…not like I'm in love with you. And I can't blame you for that. But Rachel, I might just have to knock you over the head with something the next time I see you if you don't realize just how many things there are to love about you."

Rachel shakes her head with a watery smile, and Quinn just shrugs her shoulders in this casual way that attempts to negate every beautiful honest thing she just said.

"Who knew you were such a charmer, Quinn Fabray?" She eventually says through her smile, and she can tell that Quinn sees the teasing in her eyes.

"Oh, lots of people," Quinn says offhandedly, trying to keep a straight face. "That's why the boys wouldn't stop following me around in high school."

Rachel lets out a loud laugh and rolls her eyes.

She knows that Quinn needs to deflect a little right now. She's never this open and honest with her feelings, and she knows that a part of Quinn is already regretting it. She needs to play along so that Quinn can feel comfortable and, more than anything else, safe.

"Yes, because I hear you were such a romantic when you dated boys for their popularity."

Quinn gives her a teasing glare and then fires back a retort.

"I never said I was  _romantic_  with them. You said charmer. And I totally charmed."

"Yep. Charmed them right into thinking you were straight."

Quinn's jaw drops in disbelief, but she's smiling too and Rachel can see the joy in her eyes.

"Rachel Berry!"

"You want to feel insulted, but you're smiling because you know it's true."

Quinn shakes her head, but doesn't really say anything, and then there's just this moment.

There's this moment of perfect silence where neither of them are speaking, but neither of them need to.

Because they're looking at each other and smiling and Quinn knows she's still in love with Rachel and Rachel still doesn't really know what to do about that. They're looking at each other and they know that this hasn't been resolved, not really.

But something's different now. They both know it.

They're going to be okay.


	34. Chapter 34

She's impressed that she manages to remain standing when she gets tackle hugged.

The force of the impact knocks her back a few steps and there's a whole mess of long blonde hair in her face, but her feet are still planted.

The sweeping mess of limbs and blonde hair retreats a couple of steps and she's met with kind blue eyes and the biggest smile that she's seen in person in a while.

"You're here! Q, you're actually here! I've missed you so much I could kiss you right now," she spills out of her mouth, excitement bubbling over.

Quinn laughs and looks over her shoulder to Santana, who is standing in the open doorway with her eyebrow quirked and an amused grin on her face.

"Don't worry, silly. I'm not actually going to," Brittany adds, pulling her into another hug. "Besides, I know you prefer brunettes anyway."

She says it so innocently and nonchalantly and just  _Brittany_. But she still blushes and tucks her head below Brittany's chin to hide her face, and she hears Santana laugh loudly behind them.

Brittany runs her fingers through Quinn's hair a few times before gently kissing the top of her head.

"Welcome home, Q," she whispers into her hair, and her voice is nothing but warmth and comfort.

She squeezes her arms tighter around the middle of Brittany's back, and Brittany hums happily, rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades.

She knew that she missed Santana. But it took until this moment to realize just how much she's missed having Brittany around too.

Brittany hugs are happy and warm and all-consuming. Brittany hugs are kind of perfect.

"Thanks, Britt," she answers, smiling into her neck before finally stepping back. "Let's get inside. It's cold out and you're still barefoot," she notes, watching Brittany's feet bounce up and down on the cold concrete.

"Hey, San," Quinn greets her with a quick one-armed hug while she shuts the door behind them.

"You survived yesterday, I see," Santana says in reply, leading them into Brittany's living room.

"Barely."

Quinn rolls her eyes, and she knows that Santana gets it. She knows that now isn't the time to talk about this.

"Mom's in the kitchen. She just picked up the pizza," Brittany explains, and heads in that direction of the house.

Quinn laughs because Brittany doesn't even look back. She knows that they're both really familiar with this place, and she expects them to treat it like home. The Pierce residence is a household where you can't help but feel at home as soon as you walk in the door. She always thought it was ironic in high school that the Pierce house felt more like home than her own ever did.

"Well hello, Ms. Fabray," she's greeted by an older blonde with more laugh lines than her younger counterpart.

"Hi, Mrs. Pierce," Quinn returns with a smile and she watches as the older woman rolls her eyes.

"No matter how many times I ask you to call me Karen, you're never going to, are you?"

"Nope," she answers with a grin, popping a carrot stick from the veggie tray into her mouth. "You know I can't call adults by their first names."

"Guess it worked out that you're at an ivy, then," Santana adds. "One of my profs at UCLA is in his fifties and all the students just call him George."

"You're  _joking_ ," Quinn looks at her with wide eyes. Santana laughs and grabs a piece of pepperoni pizza.

"I'm really not."

"Well I'm taking Haley and her friend to the movies, and then she'll be spending the night over there with Kaitlyn. I'll be back around ten thirty. Tell me the rules," Brittany's mom encourages with humor in her eyes.

"Don't leave the house once we start drinking," Santana says with a laugh.

"Don't mix your liquors too much because you'll just get sick and ruin the fun," Brittany chimes in.

"And if you do get sick, you have to help make breakfast in the morning as punishment," Quinn ends with a wide smile.

"You got it. Alright ladies, have fun. I'll see you later."

She gives Brittany a quick kiss on the cheek and places her hand on Santana's shoulder for a moment before grabbing her purse and exiting the kitchen.

"Why aren't all parents your parents?" Santana sighs wistfully.

"I think the world would implode," Brittany replies seriously.

"Yeah, from  _awesome_ ," Santana says over a mouthful of pizza.

Brittany's mom wasn't always this relaxed about alcohol and the stuff they did at their sleepovers. But she's always been more lenient and trusting than any other parent that Quinn has ever known. The current rules about drinking started during senior year.

Santana laughed so hard she cried the first time Mrs. Pierce told them with a straight face.

"Can we take the pizza up to my room, San?"

Brittany looks at Santana, picking up one of the boxes, and Santana steps forward to carry the other one. Quinn grabs several sodas from the fridge, and they all move up the stairs together.

Brittany's room looks exactly the same, but that doesn't bother her the way that her own bedroom at home does. There's comfort in this familiarity. They all settle on the floor together, and Brittany starts eating a slice of pizza straight from the box.

"So how have you two been? I feel like I haven't heard what's been going on with you both in a while."

"That's because you  _haven't_ ," and it almost seems like Santana is trying to guilt her for a second, but then she smiles and leans back on her palms and says, "LA's been good for us. I think we made the right move."

She says it so simply, like their futures were always a joint decision to make.

"I love it," Brittany joins in. "Santana was worried things might get bad with us since she's in college and I'm dancing. But it hasn't gotten weird. She studies, and I teach dance and audition and it works for us."

Brittany gives Santana this adorable smile and Santana winks back, and Quinn just watches them fondly, taking a bite of pizza.

"So you've been teaching dance?"

"Mhmm," Brittany mumbles, swallowing. "There's a studio a couple miles from our apartment near the UCLA campus that hired me. I mainly teach kids, but I co-teach a hip hop class on Fridays that's for people more my age."

"That's awesome, Britt."

And she means it. That sounds perfect for Brittany. She loves kids and she loves dancing. Brittany knew that the college route wasn't for her, and she doesn't appear to regret that choice at all.

"What about you, Q? I wanna hear about your sexy friend," Brittany states, taking a sip of diet coke.

Quinn coughs loudly and works on swallowing the bite of pizza in her mouth, then breathes deeply a couple times to fight off the choking.

"Sexy friend?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Q," Santana interjects. "You keep avoiding giving us the details on the super fine chick you told me you've been banging. So  _spill_!"

Santana tosses one of Brittany's pillows in her direction, and she barely catches it before it collides with her head.

"There's not a whole lot to say," Quinn mumbles, trying to hide her blush.

"Bullshit. First off, where did you meet her?"

"At a frat party."

Santana snorts.

"Well isn't that just deliciously ironic?"

"What?" Quinn raises her eyebrow, confused.

"Room full of dudes looking to get laid and somehow you still manage to find a  _woman_  to sleep with you. I'm impressed."

Brittany smiles and does this little clap that would be annoying from anyone else, but she can tell how sincere Brittany's excitement actually is about this.

"Yes, well, we met at the party. We were both on the dance floor. I saw her catch my eye a couple of times, and eventually I went for it and walked over to dance with her."

"Then what?" Brittany asks eagerly, and Quinn rolls her eyes, smiling.

"Then dancing turned into  _dancing_ ," she continues with innuendo and Santana smirks, "and we were kind of all over each other on the dance floor. We ended up in the corner of the room making out."

"Wait- did you two hook up the first night you met?" Santana suddenly asks, eyebrows raised.

Quinn  _does_  blush at that and shakes her head.

"No, umm…we almost did. We were in a room upstairs and she was in her underwear," Quinn stares at the carpet and cringes because, yeah these are her gay best friends. But that doesn't make talking about this stuff much  _easier_.

"Oh god, what did you moan out Berry's name or something and kill the mood?"

"Santana!" she shrieks, face bright red. And yeah, that's the exact kind of comment that she was dreading.

"Holy shit, you totally did!" Santana exclaims, and Brittany looks back and forth between the two of them.

"I did  _not_!" Quinn retorts, cheeks flaming. "Not that night," she adds, in a barely audible mumble.

"What do you mean not  _that_  night? Are you telling me there  _was_  a night?"

Santana is smirking, and god she is such a bitch sometimes.

"Do you want to hear the whole story or not?" Quinn huffs, eager to be done with this.

"It's okay, Q," Brittany speaks gently. "So you guys were getting sexy upstairs and…"

"And I couldn't stop thinking about Rachel," Quinn admits in a mumble. "I didn't  _say_  anything, but I knew I couldn't go through with it. So I called it off. She was bummed and gave me her number if I wanted to hook up some other time."

"I can't believe you had that girl down to her underwear and willing and you didn't fuck her."

Brittany frowns and swats at her stomach. "San, be nice."

"Well, I didn't. I  _couldn't_. We didn't talk for a while, and then everything happened with Rachel. I told her I was in love with her, and you know how much  _that_  ended up sucking. When Rachel emailed me telling me to move on, I finally gave Olivia a call."

"And that's when you two became fuck buddies," Santana concludes.

"Basically."

"Question," Brittany interjects, and she actually raises her hand.

"Yeah Britt?"

"Why are you doing all the stupid stuff San did?"

"Hey!" Santana answers defensively, even as she tries to figure out what Brittany means.

Quinn looks at her in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Brittany?"

Brittany rolls her eyes, exasperated that her friends can't see the obvious.

"You're like, San two point oh, Q."

When both Santana and Quinn give her blank stares, she continues.

"San got so miserable trying to pretend that she wasn't in love with me that she finally admitted it. But then it didn't go well because my feelings were all in confusion, and she had hurt me in the past too and I didn't know what to do."

Santana stares down at the carpet self-consciously, but lets Brittany explain. Quinn inhales sharply when she starts to see the parallels that Brittany is pointing out.

"And like, I know it's not exactly the same, 'cause San and I already had a romantic history. But we were also best friends, and San definitely had her moments where she hurt me because of her gay panic. And when she told me she was in love with me and I didn't say I could be with her, she got all defended and started acting like she wished she never told me."

"But Britt, you and Santana and very different from me and Rachel," Quinn replies softly, trying to be patient even as she feels the instinct to get defensive. "Even though you were confused, you two shared a whole history and you were in love with Santana. It's not like that with us. I'm just the idiot who fell for her straight best friend."

Then Brittany does the most unnerving thing-

She starts laughing.

Quinn feels her cheeks flush and she begins to close in on herself. Brittany is never normally mean, but she's  _laughing_  and Quinn feels her eyes begin to prick with tears.

Brittany seems to notice and snaps out of it, crawling across the carpet and rushing to wrap her arms around Quinn.

"Oh, sweetie, no that's not why I'm laughing," she assures, rubbing her hands in soothing circles on Quinn's back. "It's just that Rachel's totally a bicorn."

Quinn snaps back and looks up at Brittany's eyes sharply, checking to see if she implied what it sounds like she just implied.

"Brittany, what are you…?"

"Rach is totally bisexual, Q," she answers with amusement in her eyes.

Quinn's eyes widen and she sees Santana has a similar expression on her face. At least she's not the only one.

"Britt, what are you talking about? Rachel is straight," Quinn answers slowly. Brittany must have gotten seriously confused at some point.

"No she's not," she replies casually but firmly.

"Britt, baby, I know you like to think everyone is more fluid in their sexuality than they claim, but I'm pretty sure Rachel is straight," Santana refutes gently.

"No, you don't understand. She  _told_  me back in junior year."

"She  _what?_ " Quinn yells at the same time as Santana.

"Yeah, she came to me a little after winter break and asked if she could talk to me about something. She knew that I was bi and she asked me how I knew the difference between thinking girls were pretty and actually knowing that I was sexually attracted to them. We had a really good talk."

"How has this  _never_  come up?" Santana looks at her with disbelief.

Quinn just stares forward, jaw gaping, still not able to believe it.

"She said she was more attracted to guys, but she thought she might like girls a little too. And then when I explained how I knew, she said that my explanation basically confirmed it for her and she knew she could like sweet lady kisses even if she usually likes guy kisses more."

"I can't believe this," Quinn whispers, unblinking. "All this time."

"Yep," Brittany answers, grinning, and Santana looks like she's trying to solve a really complicated math problem in her head.

"How did I  _miss_  that?" Santana asks aloud, more to herself than anyone else in particular.

"Because you have, like, awful gaydar, San."

"But…she never did anything to set  _off_  a gaydar!" Santana replies defensively, and Brittany snorts.

"Sure."

Brittany looks like she wants to continue, but then she notices Quinn crying with her arms wrapped around her knees.

"Q, why are you crying?" Brittany questions with worry, leaning back into her. "That was supposed to be a happy thing, 'cause like, you and Rach are way more similar to me and San than it seems like."

Quinn shakes her head silently, and pulls Brittany into her, burying her face against the girl's shirt.

Brittany pulls Quinn's legs across her lap to adjust their awkward angle and wraps her arms tightly around her, resting her chin on top of Quinn's head.

She stares at Santana, and a whole silent conversation passes between them. Santana looks just as worried, and then suddenly her eyes widen in understanding. She crawls over to them and rests her head on Brittany's shoulder, placing her hand against Quinn's back and tracing gentle circles.

"Quinn, babe," Santana breathes sympathetically, and Brittany still looks totally lost.

"She likes girls. This whole time she's liked girls."

Brittany squeezes her tighter and presses a kiss to her hair, and Santana knows that she understands now.

"That's crap! This whole time she's been hiding behind not liking girls because she wouldn't admit that she just doesn't like  _me_  in that way!"

"Oh Q, I really don't think it's like that. You and Rachel have this twisty history that makes everything super complicated," Brittany consoles, running her hand through Quinn's hair. "After Rachel told me she was bi, it totally made sense. You know why?" Brittany whispers gently against her ear.

"Why?" Quinn mumbles back with loathing.

"Because of the way she looked at  _you_." Quinn quiets at that and waits on edge for Brittany to explain. "I don't know what Rachel's  _feelings_  ever were, but trust me Q. She totally thought you were pretty. In like, a question your sexuality kind of way."

"That's ridiculous," Quinn mutters into her shoulder.

But she also can't help but seem interested, and she  _hates_  that something can get her hopes up even after all the shit that has happened.

"It's  _not_. That's what I tried to tell San ages ago when you finally admitted out loud that you loved Rachel. You know, after you got drunk and hooked up with that girl."

Santana raises her head and looks into Brittany's eyes, questioning.

"What did you say, B?" Santana questions with curiosity.

"That Rachel totally loves Quinn too."

Quinn's pretty sure she's not breathing at this point. Because inhaling air into her lungs is kind of impossible right now. This is way too much information at once, and that niggling thing called hope is back with a vengeance and rattling inside of her.

"I, uhh…Britt be careful. Look, I'm not saying  _never_ , but it just really seems like…"

She doesn't want to say there's no way in hell. Not right in front of Quinn. Yeah, she can be kind of a bitch sometimes. But she stopped being legitimately cruel to Quinn ages ago, and she's not about to stomp all over her feelings like that.

"She  _is_. She just doesn't realize it because of all the twisty stuff."

Brittany feels Quinn tremble in her arms and then a broken voice speaks into her shoulder.

"Please just stop, Brittany."

"No, I can't stop because this is super important! When I said no to San in junior year, she assumed that I wasn't in love with her. And she got scared and then sorta tried to move on and ignore what happened. Don't do that. I swear there's something there, Q. I'm never wrong about this stuff. You guys just have so much confusing history getting in the way that you're all spinned around."

Quinn finally lifts her head up, and looks at Brittany, wiping her eyes.

"There's no way, Britt. I'm sorry. But there isn't."

She sniffles and wipes at her eyes, and Santana rubs her shoulder a few times.

Brittany frowns and looks like she wants to say more, but Quinn cuts her off with a look.

"I can't do this, B. I refuse to get my hopes up just because you have hunch. I'm sorry, but I can't. Not after everything that's happened. If it ends up happening somewhere down the line, and Rachel totally surprises me, then fine. But I can't carry some false hope around that's more than likely going to get crushed."

Brittany looks disappointed, but she can tell that Quinn has reached her limit so she nods her head.

"Fine. Just promise me you'll start working out the twisty stuff with her. Even if it's only for your friendship."

Quinn shifts off of Brittany's lap and rests her back against the end of her bed.

"We are though. We've talked about high school."

"Not enough," Santana states bluntly, and Quinn frowns. "Don't look at me like that. You two have so much shit to work through, there's no way you've figured all that stuff out."

Quinn attempts to glare, but it's weak and eventually she just nods.

"Can we drink now?"

Santana gives her a sympathetic smile, and Brittany claps.

"Yes! Happy stuff now! We won't bug you about Rach anymore, Q."

"Thanks," Quinn sighs gratefully.

"Can you go get the tequila from downstairs, San?" Brittany asks, grabbing another slice of pizza.

Santana smiles and stands up, moving towards the door.

"Yeah, it's always gotta be tequila when Q is here, doesn't it?"

"Duh, it's like,  _tradition_ ," Brittany states seriously, and both of them laugh.

"You down for some shots, Q?"

Quinn smiles, glad that they're moving past all the Rachel stuff. She can actually try to enjoy her night with her best friends now.

"Count me in."

**XXxxXX**

"Brittany, how do you still like penises? I don't understand…"

Okay, yeah, she's totally smashed and has absolutely zero filter right now. They're all laying on Brittany's bed together staring at the ceiling.

"Answer carefully, B," Santana warns, even though she's laughing.

"Well, I mean, I could get all technical, but since you seem to be afraid of them now I don't want to go into detail."

Brittany actually speaks more coherently when she's intoxicated. That was a hilarious discovery during sophomore year. Go figure.

"Strap-ons are super fun though," she adds casually.

Santana starts laughing hysterically, and Quinn's past the point of blushing. Her whole body feels fuzzy and warm and she's snuggled between two of her favorite people.

"That sounds a little advanced for me right now," Quinn responds through a laugh, and Brittany nods seriously.

"Yeah, you're probably right. What kind of stuff  _have_  you done so far?"

"The standard stuff, I think. I mean, is there a norm with lesbians? There kind of is, right?" she rambles, watching the ceiling fan spin around.

"I think the better question is- top or bottom?" Santana asks with a huge grin.

"Top," she responds immediately, and she's pretty sure Santana is caught off guard by how easily she answered, even though she's drunk.

"Why am I not surprised?" Santana laughs.

She's pretty sure the question is meant to be rhetorical, but her lips are moving and words are coming out.

"I mean, why would you  _want_  to give up that kind of control? Bad stuff happens when you let the other person do things and it all starts feeling really good and then you lose control of your words and you end up saying stuff you shouldn't."

"That made no sense, Q," Brittany speaks in a monotone voice. "And that's coming from me."

"What aren't you telling us?" Santana asks with curiosity.

Quinn is oddly quiet for a moment, but Santana's fuzzy thought process manages to make the connection.

"You said Rachel's name during sex, didn't you? That's what you admitted earlier. It totally happened at some point."

Quinn watches the ceiling fan twirl around, but it looks like the ceiling itself is moving a little too and everything feels really warm and light.

"On Tuesday night. Olivia fucked me and I said Rachel's name when I came," she answers quietly, keeping most of her focus on the fan rather than on her words.

"Holy shit," Santana answers loudly. "Was she pissed?"

"Mhmm," Quinn hums in reply, not really paying attention. "I thought she was just mad because, ya know, her tongue was like, the one doing all the work. But she actually looked kind of hurt. And then I freaked out because I think she's starting to have feelings that she shouldn't and we agreed no feelings. That was the deal."

"Geez, Q," Santana answers, and she almost sounds concerned.

"I know. It was never supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be  _un_ complicated. Opposite of complicated. Complicated free. But now stupid feelings are getting involved. Why is she fucking it up? She's supposed to sleep with me. She isn't supposed to  _fall_  for me."

"That's sounds really not good, Quinn," Brittany chimes in. "You need to call off whatever you two are doing. 'Cause it's just gonna get worse for you, and Olivia's gonna end up getting hurt. It sounds like she already is."

Quinn huffs and squirms around on the comforter a bit, suddenly not as comfortable as she was a moment ago.

"It's  _stupid_. She doesn't have the right to feel hurt. None of this was part of the arrangement."

"She can't help it, Quinn. And the only thing worse than not having sex is having sex where one person wants there to be feelings and the other person doesn't."

"B…" Santana murmurs, voice cracking. Somewhere through the fog of inebriation, she catches the implication of  _that_  immediately, and when did this conversation get serious?

"I've done it. And it's not fun," Brittany continues. "So even if she broke your deal, be nice and end it. You know you need to."

"I can't," Quinn mumbles, letting her eyes slip shut as she gets comfortable on the bed again. "She's my only distraction from Rachel."

"That's fucked up, Q," Santana answers her, and Quinn doesn't have the motivation to retaliate. She's just drifting.

"I know it is."

**XXxxXX**

A little more than twenty four hours later, and her current situation couldn't be more polar opposite from Friday night.

There's modest dresses and stiff white collars with ties and a choir and wooden pews.

Sunday morning. Church.

If she thought entering her old bedroom on Wednesday was weird, nothing compares to the feeling of re-entering this building with the newfound knowledge and acceptance of her sexuality.

A part of her expected lightning to strike when she walked through the door, but God held back on the smiting, and now she's wedged between her mother and her sister a few rows back from the front.

Their pastor is talking about the book of first Timothy and the dangers of false teachings.

All things considered, it could be worse. But there's a hymnal and a bible wedged into the shelf on the seat in front of her.

And she just knows that somewhere in there contains references to sexual immorality and perversion and lying with a gender that she shouldn't.

It makes her cringe the entire service.

This is the one aspect that she's really been able to ignore so far this semester. The religious part of it all.

The part where this is  _wrong_  and  _sinful_  and against God's intentions for her life.

She hasn't stepped foot in a church in New Haven. She stopped wearing her cross after the first week, because she didn't want people to judge her.

And how strange is that- to be in an environment where she's afraid to be judged for being a Christian, rather than for  _not_ being one?

All her life it was about who  _doesn't_  believe, but that's not how it works at a liberal university. It's the exact opposite.

She is under  _no_  obligation to be a Christian there, and the impulse to attend a Sunday service kind of dies away when you want to ignore any thought of ending up in hell.

It hasn't been much of a problem.

Because she's completely ignored it.

But now she's here, and the same pastor who looked at her with disdain when she grew a baby bump is preaching to the congregation. And she wonders what the look would be on his face if he knew she was a lesbian too.

It would probably be worse. Pregnancy is for nine months, but for homosexuality is for life.

Unless they  _cure_  you, of course.

She wonders what happened to the God of love. The God that supposedly sacrificed everything for her out of His love.

Do these people believe in that God?

It's hard to think that they could. Not when they harbor so much judgment and hate.

She idly wonders what they teach in Judaism. Rachel is Jewish, even though she has gay dads. So it must work out somehow. Better than this does, at least.

Everyone around her stands up, and she snaps out of her internal theological questioning. The sermon is over, and it's time to sing now.

A hymn that she recognizes from her childhood begins and everyone around her sings. Most of them don't even need their hymnals to remember the words.

She remembers the words perfectly, but she finds that she has absolutely no motivation to sing them.

About halfway through the first refrain, her father notices that she isn't singing and glares.

She bows her head in resignation and joins in the next couple of lines.

" _O my faith will not let Thee go_ _,_ _till Thou my sin forgive."_

Her stomach churns.

It feels like she's living a lie.

**XXxxXX**

After the service ends, they return to the house so that she can change and pick up her stuff. It's time to head back to the airport.

Thankfully, Santana and Brittany's flight time  _does_  match up well enough with hers this time and so they're able to ride together.

Brittany's dad is driving them. And even though Frannie has actually been quite civil this trip, she's glad that she doesn't have to endure another awkward car ride.

The three of them sit in the back of the car together, rather thank anyone taking the passenger seat, and Brittany's dad just smiles as they blast one of the pop hits radio stations.

Brittany bounces along to Kesha's latest song, and her and Santana share an amused look. All in all, it's the perfect way to wrap up this emotionally taxing holiday break.

Brittany's dad helps unload their luggage from the trunk when they get to the airport in Dayton, and he gives Brittany a big hug before wishing all of them farewell and safe travels.

Quinn is traveling US Airways while they're traveling Southwest, and their flight leaves two hours earlier than hers. She's going to be waiting here for a while, but it was worth it to drive with them.

Their flights leave from different terminals and so once they get their boarding passes, Quinn walks with them to their security gate.

Santana stands there awkwardly, but Brittany jumps forward and envelops Quinn in a tight hug.

"Think about what I said, Q. About the Rachel stuff," she murmurs against her ear, giving her back one last squeeze before pulling away. "And you better keep in touch more than you have been. I hate not hearing from you."

"I will, Britt. I promise. And it will be winter break before you know it and we'll have more time to hang out."

Quinn turns to face Santana then, and Santana sways from foot to foot for a moment before finally stepping forward.

"Don't do anything stupid before Christmas," Santana states softly near her neck, arms gripping around Quinn's back.

"Love you too, San."

They pull away after that, and Santana looks away before either of them can get emotional.

"Be safe getting back to New Haven, Q. Love you!" Brittany calls out, and then they walk towards the line for security together.

Quinn turns away once they hand over their IDs and boarding passes to the security guard, and she heads to the opposite end of the airport to her own terminal and security check point.

Now that Santana and Brittany are gone, she just wants to be back in New Haven.

**XXxxXX**

She has a layover in Philadelphia, and then finally her flight lands in Hartford.

When her plane hits the tarmac and they give the all clear for cell phone use, her phone buzzes with two new texts when she turns it on.

The first is from Rachel.

_Hi Quinn! Have a safe flight! Text me when you get back to Yale please. I want to know you made it back safe. :)_

The message makes her smile, and she clicks to view the next one.

The second text is from Olivia.

_Hey Q. Hope you had a decent break. I know things were kind of rough with us before you left. I'm over what happened though and I'd like to meet up with you soon. Are you back on campus yet?_

She rubs at her forehead, and stands up from her seat when the seatbelt sign dings and turns off.

Brittany's warning comes to mind and she sighs tiredly.

Brittany was right. Something is going on with Olivia, and she knows she needs to end this soon.

For both their sakes.


	35. Chapter 35

"You look exhausted."

Quinn lets out something between a groan and a tired sigh, burrowing her face further into the couch cushion.

"We just started back yesterday. Why are you exhausted?" Jordan questions, reaching over from his chair and poking at the side of her ribs.

She rolls onto her back and looks over at him sitting in an arm chair, amused grin on his face.

"I met with my counselor today. And I went into painstaking detail about my holiday break. So," Quinn looks at him and she sees the understanding in his eyes immediately.

"Break was that bad, huh?"

"It was…a lot," she sighs, turning her head forward to stare up at the ceiling of Sigma Chi's lounge room.

"You need to go kick a ball around with me or something?"

A soft smile stretches across Quinn's face, but she shakes her head.

"It's snowing, Jordan."

"Eh, that wouldn't stop me. But then again, I'm slightly crazy when it comes to workout conditions," he replies, and Quinn takes comfort in the familiarity of this, of having Jordan here with her. Even when she has difficult things to talk about, he always manages to put her at ease.

She closes her eyes and lets her head sink back into the couch cushion, humming softly to herself to calm her mind before she talks. She can feel Jordan's eyes on her, but he remains quiet, giving her time.

"I found out over the weekend that Rachel is bisexual," Quinn finally mutters.

Jordan laughs for a second, until he sees how silent Quinn is.

"Wait, you're serious?" he questions, ceasing his laughing abruptly.

"Completely. Brittany told me. Turns out she's known since junior year."

"That's…dude…"

"I know."

Quinn leans up from her spot on the sofa and looks at him, rubbing at her eyes tiredly.

"All this time I thought I was pining after my  _straight_  best friend. Through all the pining and love confessions, she never thought it necessary to tell me she's bi. Like, what the fuck even is that?"

Jordan looks at her with this sympathetic expression that makes her want to punch a hole through a wall. Maybe she does need to go kick a soccer ball or something.

"I don't…I'm sure she had her reasons, Quinn." She glares at him, but he ignores her, continuing. "Don't you think her telling you would have just made it worse? Can you imagine the night you told her you loved her if she said she was bi but it doesn't change anything? That's like kicking someone who's already on the floor. She couldn't do that to you."

Quinn sighs and kicks at the foot of the coffee table, running her bare foot along the carpet.

"I guess that's what sucks the most. That it doesn't change anything."

Jordan watches her closely, before standing from his chair and moving to sit beside her on the sofa. Quinn immediately curls into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess this kind of changes your reasons for why you thought it could never happen, doesn't it?"

Quinn nods against his shoulder and picks at a loose thread on the end of her cardigan.

"It means she just doesn't want me," she agrees quietly after a moment.

Jordan is silent for several seconds, trying to figure out how to respond. He reaches up and rests his arm along the back of her shoulders, pulling her closer.

"How did this even come up over the weekend? What were you and Brittany talking about?"

"We were talking about Rachel, and I made a comment about being the idiot who fell for my straight best friend. She just laughed, and then finally told me she was laughing because Rachel's bi."

He exhales loudly and rubs at her shoulder, formulating a response.

"I guess I just don't see the point in her even telling you. She had to have known it would upset you. If it doesn't change anything, she should have left it alone and let Rachel tell you on her own time."

Quinn's posture goes slightly rigid and she shifts around uncomfortably. He glances down and tries to see her face, but she's intentionally looking away.

"What aren't you telling me?"

She fidgets around and looks all over the room before settling her eyes back on his again. She looks down to her lap and then clears her throat, speaking quietly.

"Brittany seems to be under the ridiculous impression that Rachel is in love with me too, but just hasn't realized it yet," she states, rubbing her palm against her knee.

Jordan's hand freezes against her shoulder, and he looks down, waiting for Quinn to meet his eyes. She is stoically avoiding him though, so he sighs and leans back into the couch, letting her be.

"Did she say why she thinks that?" he asks slowly, speaking with caution. "Has Rachel said something to her in the past?"

Quinn laughs humorlessly and leans forward, shrugging Jordan's arm off of her in the process.

"No. Brittany's always been painfully optimistic," she mutters. "I love her to death, but that girl is not always grounded in reality. Half the time she's making shit up and half the time she's completely right. And you never quite know which it is until later."

Jordan pauses and eyes Quinn warily.

"I'm going to assume you think she's making shit up in this situation…"

Quinn turns to look at him sharply.

"Of course I do. You really think I'm gonna let myself get my hopes up, just because  _Brittany_  has a feeling about something?"

He looks at her helplessly, not really sure what to say.

"Ugh, that's kind of harsh on Brittany," Quinn sighs. "Look, I love Britt. Don't get me wrong. It's just that she's trying to make  _my_  situation into her and Santana's love story, when it's not. I get that San and I are similar sometimes. I do. There's certain ways that we respond to stuff, how we are emotionally, that's often similar. It's why no matter how much we fight, we always seem to sort of get each other. But she and San have such a different history from Rachel and I. And Brittany is trying to brush that off, like all we have to do is work out our past and then things will be fine and dandy. Like working out our past is something simple. It's  _not_."

Jordan is quiet for longer this time, and it unnerves Quinn enough that she finally turns to look at him. When she meets his eyes, he looks directly at her and reaches for her hand, forcing her to listen.

"I get it, Q," he states softly. "You don't have to convince me that she's wrong. I know you way better than I know this Brittany friend of yours. One thing I know for sure is that you've been through a ton of shit this semester. And the last thing you're looking for is false hope again.  _Believe_  me, I get it, Quinn."

Quinn reluctantly nods and allows her posture to relax, sinking back into the sofa and closer to Jordan.

"Aside from her trying to compare you two to her relationship, what else did she say? Because comparing you to Santana is all about  _you_ , not Rachel. What makes her think  _Rachel_  feels this way? Did she say?"

"Not in detail, really," Quinn replies, resting her head on his shoulder again. "She thinks that our complicated past is keeping Rachel from realizing that she loves me too. I think that's a bunch of crap though. Our history is blocking a lot of things, but I don't think buried romantic feelings are one of them. If they  _were_  hidden, I'm pretty sure they would have surfaced when I told her I was in love with her."

"So then…you decide that Brittany is wrong. And you move forward with trying to repair your friendship with Rachel. …right?" Jordan looks down at her, questioning.

"Right," Quinn whispers back after a few seconds. Her voice sounds far away, like her mind is elsewhere.

"What is it, Quinn?"

Quinn pauses and then shifts around on the sofa to look at him, expression torn with conflicting emotions. It's like he can see the hope flickering there, unwanted and uninvited.

"I can't stop wanting Brittany to be right, even though I think she's completely wrong."

Jordan smiles at her sympathetically and rubs the back of her shoulder.

"I guess that's the part that sucks the most about loving someone like that- not being able to keep yourself from hoping and wishing."

"I  _hate_  it."

"I know," Jordan agrees. "C'mon, let's go grab some dinner from the kitchen. You've gotta be getting hungry by now."

Quinn nods, grateful for the reprieve from this conversation, and stands up from the sofa. They exit the lounge together, and Quinn leads the way towards the kitchen, familiar with this frat house now.

"Do you know what they're serving for dinner?" she asks as they round the corner of the hall.

"Beef stroganoff, I think."

"Ugh, that sounds  _so good_  right now," Quinn moans, stomach rumbling.

Jordan laughs and follows her into the kitchen where a few other guys are milling around, some eating and some getting food.

One of the women on the kitchen staff dishes food onto Quinn's plate, and she smiles gratefully, giving her a polite thank you.

When she reaches a table in the corner with Jordan, a couple of guys look over at her, but she ignores them.

"Okay, so sorry if this is awkward, but I have to ask and I feel like it's within my lesbro rights," Jordan begins slowly.

Quinn quirks an amused eyebrow and him.

"Lesbro rights?"

"Uh-huh. What's the deal with you and Olivia right now?"

Quinn splutters and coughs around a large sip of soda.

"'Cause I mean, I know you two have been hooking up and stuff. But like, the whole point was to try to get over Rachel, and that hasn't been happening at all, so…" Jordan looks at her expectantly, completely ignoring when Quinn attempts a weak glare.

"Lesbro rights do not include me talking about my sex life. That's just you being a guy," Quinn replies with a laugh, rolling her eyes. Maybe if she jokes about it, he won't actually make her talk.

A couple of guys near their table look up, and Quinn blushes hotly when she realizes that they heard her. Jordan notices them look up too and fights back a laugh, focusing on her instead.

"That's not what I'm asking about, and you know it, Quinn," he says pointedly. "Though details never hurt," he adds with a smirk, and Quinn kicks at his shin under the table.

"Such a guy," Quinn reiterates, looking down at her food instead of at him.

"Stop avoiding the question."

Quinn takes several bites of food, swallowing slowly, before answering him.

"I think she's starting to have feelings for me," she admits quietly. When she chances a hesitant glance up, she can see the surprise in Jordan's eyes.

"Woah. When did  _that_  happen?"

Quinn shrugs awkwardly and takes another couple bites of food.

"I have no idea," she replies, sipping at her drink. "But I realized it the last night we hooked up before break."

"Shit, that's…"

"A complete and total mess?" Quinn finishes. "Yeah, I know."

Jordan completely ignores his dinner and leans forward.

"What are you going to do?"

Quinn sighs and sets down her fork, tapping her thumbs together against the table and gripping her hands.

"End it," she eventually answers.

"You're calling off the arrangement?"

"What the hell else am I supposed to do?" she replies, exasperated. "I mean yeah, the sex is good. But I'm still hung up on Rachel. And Olivia having feelings for me makes this a whole level of complicated that I do  _not_ want to deal with."

"Most guys would probably still sleep with her," Jordan replies bluntly, taking a bite of his food.

"Well, I'm not a guy. And that's just stupid. I know I had completely selfish reasons for being with her, but I've done my fair share of leading people on and I don't intend to do that with her."

"Would it still be leading her on though if you both agreed it was casual?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. Guys just really don't get women sometimes.

"If I know she has feelings for me and I continue to sleep with her, then that means I'm accepting that she has feelings for me and doing stuff anyway. But I don't accept it. I don't want anything to do with her feelings. I know that may be harsh, but I can't handle this right now. Things with her were supposed to be  _simple_ , and now they're far from it."

Jordan takes another bite of food, nodding in agreement.

"So when are you gonna break it off?"

"Soon. Really soon. A part of me wants to continue on for a little longer, but I just can't. The longer I let this go on, the more complicated it'll become."

"You think being on your own will help you clear your head?"

Quinn stares at the table and bites on her lip, thinking about being truly single and by herself, not using other people to distract from everything that's happened.

"I really hope so," she answers, looking up at him. "Otherwise I'm just alone."

**XXxxXX**

Wednesday night, Rachel is staring at the rubric for her playwriting assignment when Naomi walks through the door.

When she looks up, Rachel's eyes widen and her mouth hangs open slightly.

"Don't even. I know," she says immediately, dropping her bag down by her desk.

The entire left half of Naomi's clothing is covered in watered down orange paint, and there's even flecks of it in her hair, contrasting sharply with the purple.

"How…"

Rachel inspects Naomi's clothes with amusement, and she can't help but laugh.

"I got in someone's way."

"Clearly."

"It was totally my fault. I was walking and looking down at my palette at the same time, right as this kid was throwing this bucket of watered down paint at a canvas."

Rachel looks at the orange stains permeating that entire side of her body.

"I'm sorry…" she eventually says, even though she's still laughing.

"It all worked out. AJ claims that me blocking the paint from hitting certain parts of the canvas created an awesome effect."

"I'm sure you were glad to be of assistance," she replies, smiling.

Naomi grins and rustles through her closet, gathering her shower stuff so that she can go clear the paint off.

"How's your day been? Paint free, I hope?" Naomi asks with a laugh.

"Paint free," Rachel assures, watching Naomi move around. "But I'm kind of freaking out about this assignment. You know my play that I have to write? The rough draft is due early next week. He said it's okay if the rough draft is really rough, but I still don't have much time. And the final draft is due Friday the 14th, which is less than three weeks from now!"

"When's the draft due?"

"Next Tuesday," Rachel replies anxiously, glancing down at her notes. "I worked on it quite a bit on Sunday after my dads left, but it still feels awkward. The dialogue just doesn't feel natural, and neither does the story, really."

"Why do you think that is?" Naomi asks, slinging her towel over her shoulder.

"Because it's not an easy story to tell."

"Have you ever tried?"

Rachel looks at her roommate in confusion. "Tried what?"

"Telling the story. Like, all together out loud."

She frowns and shakes her head.

"Why would I do that?"

"Just give it a try. Even if you're telling the story to a wall. You might be surprised by what you realize and how it makes you think. It could make the writing process easier. I mean, your play is a story, right? So you have to start thinking of it like a story."

Rachel pauses and thinks about the advice that she's just been given.

"That…actually makes a lot of sense."

"I'm known to do that sometimes," Naomi replies with a wink, grabbing her keys and shower stuff. "I'll be back in a bit when I get this orange stain off of me."

"Good luck with that," Rachel laughs. Naomi shuts the door behind her, and Rachel looks back down at the project outline for this assignment.

She thinks about what was just suggested, about telling the whole story out loud. She doesn't really want to tell an actual person, but speaking to a wall might be a bit much.

So she decides on something in between.

She reaches into her bottom desk drawer and rustles around for a moment until she finds what she's looking for, an item that she hasn't used since she got to New York.

Her video camera.

If she's going to tell their story, she wants it recorded for reference. And something about talking to a camera feels at least marginally more personal than talking to some other inanimate thing like a wall or a chair.

Rachel scribbles a quick note on a post-it, telling Naomi that she's going down to the study lounge down the hall to work on her project. She grabs her camera, a notebook, and the project outline and heads down the hall.

The study lounge is thankfully empty, and she looks around the room, trying to figure out the best way to set up her camera. She didn't bring her tripod with her to school so she has to find a way to improvise. A few moments later, she realizes that if she places the camera on the window nook area, it will be at a good height if she's sitting in a chair. She gets the camera set up on the ledge and then slides a chair over, getting everything situated.

She stares at the unrecording camera for a few minutes, unsure of how she is even going to begin. How do you tell the entire tumultuous story of your relationship with your best friend?

She realizes that's the exact problem though. This is the question that's keeping her from being able to write her play. She has to start talking and hope that the story will take shape.

She presses the record button on her little remote and looks into the camera, running her fingers through her hair and moving around awkwardly for a few moments.

"So I'm here today to…to tell the story of Quinn Fabray, I guess. The story of the both of us, from the beginning. I don't really know how to do this, but I'm going to try."

Rachel pauses after that and smoothes her hands along her skirt before looking back up.

"Quinn Fabray is my best friend. After my parents, she's probably the most important person in my life. But…we had a rocky beginning. Quinn was awful before she was wonderful, and she was something resembling an enemy before she was ever anything resembling a friend. I never really understood why, until recently."

Rachel glances down with sudden shyness, biting at her lip. She's not even sure why, since she's the only one in here and she never intends to share this video with anyone. But she can't help it.

"I found out that…Quinn is gay. And that she acted the way she did in high school because she was attracted to me, and then later fell in love with me."

She shakes her head and rubs against her temple.

"Even saying it now, weeks later, I still can hardly believe it. But looking back, it really does make sense. And I guess that's why I'm here recording this right now- to look back."

Rachel takes a deep breath and moves around a bit, getting comfortable in her chair.

"The first time I ever saw Quinn was freshman year. It's funny, you know. How we never really mention freshman year. I think Quinn's energy was so focused on becoming popular that she didn't bother acknowledging me. We sort of co-existed in the same school, but we never interacted. She left me alone, and I didn't approach her. Sophomore year is when everything really started. She showed up the first day of school in a perfectly laundered cheerios uniform and yelled at me to get out of her way. I stumbled trying to move out of her path, and she insulted my outfit. I was wearing jeans and a simple blouse. The next four days consecutively, I received slushies to the face from various jocks, each with a message from Quinn that I was a loser and the way I dressed was horrific."

She sighs and pulls her feet up onto her chair, resting her chin on her knee. Rachel is already feeling uncomfortable talking about this, and she's barely even gotten started. But she presses on, because she knows it needs to be done.

"That weekend, I looked through my closet and various teen magazines, trying to find outfits that would appease Quinn and get her to ignore me again. I thought my clothes looked pretty good. They matched the current trends quite well. But every single day I received a slushie, and several of my favorite clothes got permanently stained. That's when I realized that it wasn't going to stop. So instead, the weekend after that, I got my dads to take me discount clothes shopping and purchased sweaters and skirts that I wouldn't mind getting messed up. My dads were really confused by my wardrobe choices, but they didn't argue. Everyone thinks Quinn made fun of how I looked because of how awful I dressed. None of them ever realized that I started dressing in those clothes  _because_  of Quinn, because I knew she wasn't going to leave me alone and I didn't want my favorite clothes constantly getting ruined."

Rachel closes her eyes and lets her mind get transported back to that time, when the bullying really began. She thinks about that  _look_  that Quinn would get in her eyes whenever they had direct interaction, like she was so furious that she just wanted Rachel to fade out of existence.

It's not entirely unrealistic to think that Quinn  _was_  trying to wish away her existence at that time, to make her go away. It just wasn't for the reasons that she suspected.

"Eventually the slushies stopped being a daily thing, but then the other insults started," she continues, looking at the camera. "She would call me so many different names. Anything but my actual name. Anything to garner that flash of hurt that I knew she could see in my eyes before I managed to mask it up. She never lay a finger on me. When it came to actually interacting with me, it was all about the emotional abuse. Not physical. I hated how easily she could make me cry, that she held that power over me. Even if it wasn't until I got home, her words still affected me. They affected me  _so much_."

Rachel quiets after that, taking a shaky breath. It's so hard to talk about Quinn like this, about the person she used to be. Sometimes it's nearly impossible to believe that the person she's describing is the same person she spent this past summer with. The person who shyly told her that her bathing suit looked cute (which makes  _way_  more sense now, looking back) and danced around with her on the pool deck to Robyn and other music she'd never heard in her life.

"It's crazy to think of where we are now, compared to where we used to be," Rachel voices her thoughts aloud. "I've thought many times about…about how Quinn was able to bear acting that way in high school. About the things that drove her to behave that way in the first place. Quinn talks about her family with such hesitance and… sadness. I knew objectively that she wasn't in a loving family environment…but I guess I've never really allowed myself to think in detail about how that affected her actions. She was always so closed off. Not just from me, but from everyone."

She thinks about when Quinn got pregnant and her dad threw her out, claiming she was a disgrace to their family. Quinn must have so many invisible scars created by her upbringing that Rachel still doesn't even know about.

"I've accepted on a mental level that Quinn's life circumstances played a huge role in how she dealt with her feelings for me. But…I don't think it's been until really recently that I've started accepting it emotionally and been able to sympathize with her. I think about that look she got in her eyes when she told me she loved me… how  _terrified_  she was even as she tried to speak with confidence. I can't even imagine how that must have felt- acknowledging something out loud after denying it to herself for  _so_  long. She spent so much time trying to make her feelings go away, and hurt me over and over again in the process."

Rachel hears a noise in the distance and looks behind her, but it's just someone passing by noisily in the hall. She glances at the door to make sure no one is entering before turning back around.

"Anyway…I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been mentally acknowledging potential reasons for Quinn's behavior for a long time. But it's only been recently, after her confessing her feelings for me, that I've begun to acknowledge it emotionally. And…sympathize with it in a way that I was never able to before. It doesn't make what she did okay. But it makes me understand all this, both on a mental level and on an emotional level, in a way that I haven't in the past."

She blinks a few times before she realizes that her eyes are welling, and she quickly lifts her hand to wipe her eyes before continuing. Saying all of this out loud for the first time is getting to her more than she realized it would.

"Some people have asked me why I didn't just move on, why I continued to reach out to Quinn even as she kept on berating me. And there's even more people back home who looked at me with this unspoken question in their eyes- of how we ever managed to become friends, of why I even bothered in the first place. I think it's because…I could always tell that there was more going on with Quinn than she let on. Even if I didn't know what it was. I could see how unhappy she was, even as her popularity continued to increase. And her unhappiness only increased that much more after she gave birth to Beth and then returned for junior year."

Rachel looks down to the carpet and chews on her lip, remembering that first day back when Quinn sauntered through the halls as if the majority of last school year never happened. As if she didn't spend nine months growing a human being inside of her.

"Her sadness was that much more evident. But…no one  _ever_  seemed to notice. And if they did notice, they didn't say anything. It was almost like I felt this responsibility, even though she was awful to me… because I felt like I was the only one who could see how miserable she really was."

It's true. She'll never understand how so many people stayed blind to Quinn's discontent, to her barely concealed depression. It took pink hair dye and the return of her baby daughter for people to realize that Quinn might not be okay.

"I realized at some point that…Quinn and I had one fundamental thing in common. I continually reached out to her because I realized we were both lost, just in completely opposite ways. The things she must have felt like she was missing in her life- loving parents, the confidence to be herself- were things that I had. All while I craved the exact things that she already possessed and I was missing- popularity, beauty, acceptance from her peers. And maybe that's just one of those weird inexplicable things of the universe- that lost people have a way of gravitating towards each other."

She feels a small smile play at her lips and then laughs abruptly, shaking her head.

"I'm supposed to be talking about details, telling the story in order. But I guess I'm just sort of ranting about our relationship in general, aren't I? It's weird though…because I think it might actually be helping," she gives an unnecessary explanation to her video camera.

"So yeah, people got really confused by our friendship. It wasn't something that happened overnight though. It was definitely a gradual thing. I'm trying to think about when our first real moment of friendship even was. I mean…I could argue that there were moments throughout sophomore year. But I think those were more moments of weakness on Quinn's part than anything else. Temporary moments where she let her guard down. I think the first time we both made a real effort and…truly  _enjoyed_  each other's company was when we did a duet together junior year."

She smiles at the memory, of the complete shock that coursed through her when Quinn approached her at her locker. Quinn claimed that she wanted to practice, so that she'd have a better chance at a solo for competition. She claimed that even if she didn't want to admit it, Rachel was her best shot at helping her improve. But that didn't explain why Quinn suggested a duet. She could have showed up one afternoon, gotten some singing lessons and advice, and been done with it.

"I think it was a peace offering- her doing a duet with me," she explains to the camera. "We still had our rough moments after that, but things were never as bad as they used to be. I remember when she showed up at my house in the afternoon the day after she suggested it. I thought she had ditched me because she was nearly half an hour late. But then she was ringing my doorbell and apologizing and saying her mom sent her to pick up the dry cleaning before the store closed. She actually looked worried that I would be upset with her. It was bizarre. I couldn't understand what was going on. Part of me thought it might be a big elaborate prank, her hanging out with me."

She shifts her legs around to get comfortable and then laughs, thinking about that day.

"Quinn walked into my room, complimented the posters on my walls, then sat on my rug as if she'd been in my room dozens of times. I realize now that it was false confidence, that she was trying to act like she was fine even if she was probably really nervous. She just stared at me expectantly until I sat down next to her, and then she pulled her laptop out of her backpack and opened up itunes. I remember so clearly her looking up from her computer at me and saying, 'I have almost four thousand songs on here and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't know two thirds of them. Do you even listen to anything other than show tunes in your spare time?' I felt this rush of insecurity until I looked up from the rug at her and saw that she was smiling at me. I realized that she was teasing. It was the first time she had ever done so without malice, and I had no idea what to think of it."

Rachel continues talking, mentioning various moments from high school out of chronological order, until the camera beeps that it's low on battery. That's what finally manages to snap herself out of her memories, and she presses the stop recording button on her remote. Her video must be over an hour long at this point.

She has no idea what she's even going to do with the footage, if she should bother copying it onto her computer.

All she knows is that this exercise of talking to no one has accomplished exactly what she hoped it would. She feels like she can actually write her play now, like she has a better grasp of the story in her head.

Maybe this is what she needed more than anything-

To finally talk about all of this.

Even if she wasn't speaking to anyone other than herself, she feels different. Like speaking the words out loud changed things somehow.

Maybe it's silly. But she feels like it's progress that she can think about the old Quinn and her Quinn and where the overlap was without breaking into a nervous sweat. The memories aren't as triggering as they were in the past. She can actually think about them and acknowledge them now.

She gathers her things and walks back down the hall to her room, sliding her key into the lock.

Naomi is reading a book on her bed when she enters, and Rachel greets her, setting her belongings down on her desk.

"Hey, how's the project coming?"

Rachel smiles and falls back on her bed, letting her head sink back into her pillow. She turns her head and scoots over a few inches on her comforter, looking at Naomi.

"Really good, actually. Thanks for your advice. I think it helped a lot."

"Yeah?" her roommate questions, hopeful smile on her face.

"Yeah." She turns her head back and stares up at the ceiling, and Naomi must be able to tell that she's busy thinking because she doesn't speak again.

She lays there for several minutes, thinking about the actual dialogue that she's preparing to write for her script. And then after a while she finds herself thinking about the whirlwind that the past couple of weeks have been.

Less than three weeks ago, her best friend admitted that she's in love with her.

And god, everything's been so all over the place since then that it feels like it's been a lifetime rather than a meager two and a half weeks.

It doesn't even matter that they've gone longer than this without seeing each other. It  _feels_  like it's been forever, and she just really needs to see her.

"I miss Quinn," Rachel admits aloud, and she hears Naomi turn to look at her. Rachel shifts her head on her pillow and sees her smiling.

"You should go see her this weekend."

"It's already Wednesday though. She probably has plans," Rachel mumbles unsurely.

She scowls when Naomi tilts her head back and laughs before answering her.

"Rachel, I'm pretty sure she'd cancel whatever potential plans she has if it meant getting to see you."

"No, I mean… she might have  _plans_ ," she emphasizes again, blushing this time.

Naomi stares at her blankly for several seconds before catching on.

"Are you talking about the girl from the facebook pictures? Are they together or something?"

Rachel blinks in surprise when she realizes that Naomi still has no idea about Olivia.

"Or something…" she replies slowly.

Naomi arches her eyebrow and Rachel sighs, explaining, "They've been…hooking up, I guess you could say. They're certainly not in a relationship, but they have an ongoing thing. And I'm sure Quinn probably has plans with her this weekend, so…"

"Fuck that," Naomi retorts bluntly. "Quinn's your best friend and even if she found herself a casual hook up, I'm sure she'd rather see you. And since when is Quinn sleeping with some girl?"

"Since I told her to try to move on," she answers quietly. Naomi looks like she's about to go on a rant, so Rachel cuts her off. "Naomi, don't. I don't want to talk about what Quinn is doing with that girl. Just let it go, okay?"

Naomi looks conflicted for a moment, before finally nodding.

"Fine. But only because you look desperate to talk about something else, and because I don't want to talk shit about something without knowing the whole story."

"Thank you," Rachel sighs in relief.

"Do you really miss her as much as you say you do?"

She turns her head sharply to look at her roommate.

"Of course I do! What kind of question is that?"

"Then forget about Quinn's random girl and go to New Haven this weekend."

Rachel thinks that she and New Haven don't have the best track record.

The first time she went, Quinn kissed her and then spent the night crying.

The second time, Quinn confessed her feelings and, well...

What's that saying about the third time's the charm?


	36. Chapter 36

She's halfway through eating her salad in the café on the first floor of the library when her phone starts ringing inside of her bag. She shuffles past her wallet and a few loose papers before locating it and pulls it out, checking the caller id. When she sees who it is, she swallows thickly and takes a sip of water before accepting the call.

"Hello?" she answers, sudden nervousness overtaking her.

"Hey, Rachel. It's Luke," a kind voice answers through the speaker, and Rachel sets down her fork, leaning forward in her chair.

"Hi Luke! How are you?" she asks pleasantly, trying to sound more confident than she feels. Luke has barely been on her radar for the past week, and she knows that she's going to have to deal with this thing with him soon.

The problem is that she still has no idea how she wants to deal. Her thoughts have kind of been all over the place, and she recognizes now that one of the primary reasons she went out with Luke in the first place was because it felt nice to feel wanted. The question now is whether or not there's any legitimate potential for them.

Is his interest in her the biggest thing that drew her in? Or is there more to this potential relationship than that?

"I'm okay. This week has been insanely busy, which is why I'm just now calling you. Everything's been hectic since I got back from Thanksgiving break. How about you? Did you have a good holiday?"

"It's fine. I've been quite busy as well. Break was a lot of fun though! I stayed in the city and my dads visited me from home," Rachel answers, glancing around the café.

"Sweet! Well listen, I was wondering if you might want to go out this weekend. I know it's already Thursday and you may already have plans, but I figured I'd check with you. What do you think? Want to go out for dinner or something this weekend?"

Rachel looks down to her half-eaten salad, nervously tapping her fingers against the surface of the table. She could accept Luke's offer, even though her play assignment is due Tuesday. It wouldn't be that big of a deal to go out for a few hours. That's not the main problem. The main problem is that she's pretty much convinced herself that she is going to surprise Quinn in New Haven this weekend. She can't exactly go on a date with Luke if she's in Connecticut.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to this weekend, Luke," she replies, feeling a slight pang of guilt as she does so. "I've got this gigantic assignment that's worth like half my grade in one of my classes due early next week."

That part is entirely true. But she can't bring herself to say that the real reason is because she's going to New Haven instead. She isn't even sure why. It's not like Luke has any say over how she spends her time or who she visits.

Maybe it's because she's afraid he'll walk away if he notices her waning interest.

And perhaps that's unfair. He has every right to end this too. But she's honest enough with herself to acknowledge that Luke is like her safety net right now. She doesn't know if things will work out between them, but she takes comfort in knowing there is a possibility with someone. So even though Luke would be completely justified in breaking it off, she doesn't want to lose him yet. Not when she hasn't made any final decisions on what she wants to do.

It's been a little while since they last went out and she feels like she needs to see him again before she can make the right decision. She needs to know for sure if she would be better off ending whatever it is that they're building together.

"But look," she adds hastily, before he can provide some polite response about how he understands. "My week is pretty free next week after I turn in that assignment. So I can meet Tuesday evening or really any evening after that. Or if you'd rather wait until next weekend, we can do that too," she supplies in a rush, trying to ensure that he knows she still wants to meet up with him.

"I understand. School gets crazy around this time between Thanksgiving and finals. I should be free next Wednesday if you want to meet up for coffee. And maybe we could go out for longer next weekend too," Luke replies, and it really doesn't help that he's so sweet about it. If anything, it makes her feel like she should just tell him about New Haven.

Instead, she sighs in relief that he seems to be fine with waiting and doesn't seem upset.

"Awesome! Let's plan on meeting up next Wednesday then, and we can work out other plans from there," she offers as a compromise, not wanting to promise anything beyond one more date with him.

"Wednesday it is. I'll let you get back to your project now, but I'll text you details about next week when it gets closer to time," he says in reply, and Rachel thinks maybe there  _is_  something about this guy.

He's been incredibly sweet and laid-back from the start, which is something she needs in a partner. She needs someone to keep her grounded and calm when she starts running in circles. If she is going to have a future career in the spotlight, she needs someone who will be understanding.

These are qualities she looks for in a person now that she's moved on from high school.

And maybe Luke can actually be that person.

For now, she's going to wait until next Wednesday and focus on this weekend instead.

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you soon, Luke!"

"Bye, Rachel," he answers in farewell, ending their call.

She exhales a deep breath in relief and sets her phone back down on the table, stirring her salad around absentmindedly with her fork again. Naomi knew that she was more than likely planning to go to New Haven this weekend, but that phone call just solidified it. She postponed seeing Luke because she's more anxious to see Quinn.

The vivid memory of Quinn crying at the bottom of Branford's staircase, looking absolutely heartbroken, presses at her thoughts and leaves a bitter imprint. She needs to trace over those painful moments with better ones. She needs to see her best friend _smile_  because of her, and move past this together with Quinn.

She needs to make this right again.

**XXxxXX**

When did Woodland become her default place for difficult conversations?

It's a neutral zone, but she really doesn't need to tack on another awkward conversation to add to her memories of this place.

It might taint the awesome lattes.

They agreed to meet Thursday evening, so she enters the coffee shop a couple of minutes early, hanging her coat up on a hook and inhaling the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee.

She spends about thirty seconds debating whether or not she should place her order on her own, but decides to wait. It seems rude, despite what she's here to do.

The small bell attached to the entrance chimes and Quinn turns to the door, checking to see who just arrived. Sure enough there she is, and she hangs up her coat as well before walking over.

"Hey, Q," she greets with a warm smile leaning in for a kiss.

Quinn deflects to the side at the last moment though, and her lips land somewhere between her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

"Hi, Olivia," Quinn smiles back nervously, avoiding the confused look that Olivia gives her. She knows that Quinn isn't so big on the public displays of affection, but she had gotten used to small things like this.

Quinn can tell that Olivia is already wondering if something else is going on. She wants to have this conversation before Olivia figures it out for herself.

"Can I order something for you?" she asks cautiously, glancing at Olivia. Do friends with benefits, or whatever they are, do that- pay for each other's coffee?

She seems to have done something right though, because Olivia smiles and nods.

"A chai tea would be great. Thanks, Quinn."

Quinn moves up to the counter to buy their drinks while Olivia picks out a secluded table at the corner of the shop.

Good. That will make this easier. A public setting, but without a bunch of people who can easily eavesdrop.

The shop isn't too busy, just the usual evening crowd. Students are scattered, settling in for a bit of nighttime studying, while others are gathered closer to the window tables and talking casually.

She orders Olivia's tea and a hazelnut latte for herself, then stands to the side of the counter and waits for a couple of minutes while their drinks are prepared. When she glances back at the table where Olivia is sitting, Olivia gives her a flirty smile and quirks her eyebrow, making Quinn blush and turn away.

This is not going to be smooth. She tries to think about everything she rehearsed last night, about how she wants to approach this. The urge to resurrect her former self and be a complete bitch is overwhelming. It would be so much easier to cut this girl out of her life and then walk away without a single glance back.

But that's not how she works anymore. If she wanted to do that, she could have made a simple phone call. She asked Olivia here so that they could actually talk, and so that Quinn could explain.

She's regretting that whole talking decision now though.

Quinn scratches at the back of her neck nervously, and thanks the barista when he places their drinks up on the counter. There isn't any time left for her to prepare, because she has their drinks in hand now and she knows that Olivia can see her.

So she squeezes her eyes shut for the briefest moment and attempts a calming breath, then turns around and walks over to their table with a smile on her face.

"I don't know if you take milk or sugar, so…" Quinn begins, handing Olivia her tea. Her statement is met with a small smile and Olivia slides out of her chair, grabbing a couple of sugar packets from the counter and sitting back down at the table.

"Two sugars usually. No milk," she explains, adding the sugar packets to her tea.

Quinn nods and glances down to the table surface, tracing her finger along the edge of her coffee lid. She tries to calm her thoughts and collect herself, but her heart is already thumping painfully against her chest. Why is this so hard? Why is calling things off with a girl she isn't even dating so much more difficult than breaking up with any of her boyfriends in high school?

"Even now you're still so nervous and shy around me," Olivia observes, taking a sip of her tea. "You know no one here cares, right? And either way we just look like friends having coffee," she says gently, trying to put Quinn at ease.

Why does she have to do that? Why does she have to be sweet and actually  _care_  and make this so much harder?

"It's not that," Quinn answers, glancing up into warm brown eyes. The first thought that crosses her mind is that they're the  _wrong_  warm brown eyes, and that's how she knows for sure that this has to end. It has to end now.

"What is it then?"

Quinn looks down at the table again and thinks about what she rehearsed. She didn't expect to be asked so bluntly though, and she feels her palms begin to sweat a little. When Quinn is quiet for several seconds, Olivia ducks her head down to try to meet Quinn's eyes, watching her closely with her lip caught between her teeth. After a slight pause, Olivia gives up and sits back in her chair, smiling fondly at Quinn.

"I missed you this past week, you know. I didn't think I would, but I did," Olivia confesses with a small smile.

And that comment more than anything is what snaps Quinn out of her own thoughts and forces her to speak.

"That's actually why I wanted to talk to you…" she begins, feeling her fingertips hum with nervous energy. Olivia furrows her eyebrows slightly, a subtle display of confusion, and Quinn continues. "I wanted to meet you here instead of at the dorm or whatever because I…this thing between us, whatever it is…I can't do it anymore."

Quinn glances up as she reaches the end of her sentence, and sees the muted surprise in Olivia's eyes. She contains it well though and leans forward, resting her hand lightly on top of Quinn's.

"What are you talking about, Q?"

She forces herself to meet Olivia's eyes, and Olivia must detect something in the hazel staring back at her, because she nods in understanding and grips Quinn's hand slightly.

"I'm calling off our arrangement. I can't… _be_  with you like this anymore. This is just…it was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to feel light and casual, except it doesn't anymore. It hasn't even been that long, but I already feel this shift and I know you understand what I'm talking about."

Olivia pulls her hand away from Quinn and folds her hands together in her lap, staring at her cup of tea instead of looking Quinn in the eye. The way that Olivia retreats, rather than combating Quinn with confidence, confirms her suspicions. There's a lot more going on in Olivia's head than the girl has been letting on. She hates that she was right, that their situation has become exactly as complicated as she hoped it wouldn't be.

"I'm in love with another girl," Quinn admits, exhaling a slow breath. "You've pretty much known that from the start, but I've never flat out said it. I thought I could move past it, that being with you would help me move past it. But it hasn't. Not even a little. I'm head over heels for my best friend that lives in New York City and I thought that you could magically make those feelings for her go away. You're gorgeous, and confident in your sexuality and…everything I would be looking for in an actual relationship if I wasn't still hung up on someone."

Quinn pauses and looks at Olivia closely, waiting for the girl to meet her eyes. When she finally does look up, Quinn looks at her eyes and smiles sadly.

"We started this with the intent to just hook up with each other," she continues. "But it's pretty clear that it's moved past that really quickly. It's feeling like the very beginning of something  _real,_  and that freaks me out. I can't handle  _anything_  real with another girl right now, and I can't sleep with you knowing there's the possibility that you  _do_  want that."

Olivia sits up straighter and looks toward Quinn with renewed confidence, grasping at the casual demeanor that she normally has.

"Who says I want that, Quinn? We're just friends who are having fun together. That's it. You're making this into way more than it is."

Quinn takes a slow sip of her latte and then levels her with a look.

"Really? We're just sleeping together? Is that why you care about me becoming more comfortable in my sexuality? Is that why you agreed to a coffee date on a weeknight with no promise of us hooking up later on? We have to be real here, Olivia. I don't know what's going on between us, but I know that whatever's going on is not what we agreed to."

Quinn watches as Olivia's expression hardens and she leans back in her chair, avoiding Quinn's close gaze. A prolonged moment of painfully awkward silence passes between them before Olivia looks down to her lap.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," she speaks quietly, in a far more timid and vulnerable tone than Quinn was expecting. She anticipated that this would be the part where they argue and then Olivia leaves. Instead, the girl is biting on her bottom lip, resolutely avoiding Quinn's eyes. "You're right. This isn't what we agreed to and…I should have recognized that something was different about this back when you told me how much baggage you had and I didn't even care. You're…interesting, and beautiful and…you've drawn me in so easily it kind of freaks me out."

Olivia's gaze flickers up to her, and her chest clenches painfully. It would be so easy to give in to this, to give this thing with Olivia a real try. Here she is with a gorgeous woman who holds so much potential for a real relationship. But they wouldn't stand a chance. Not when she's still so caught up on Rachel. She hasn't spent enough time trying to move past it on her own, and this thing with Olivia would be doomed before it even really began.

"I wish I was in a place where I could offer more than what we agreed to," Quinn admits. "You have no idea how much I wish I wanted you. Things would be so much better that way…so much easier. But I…I don't. I…"

"You love Rachel," Olivia finishes in a resigned tone. Quinn blinks in surprise, and Olivia gives her an amused look. "You don't exactly forget the name that someone calls out when it's not  _yours_ ," Olivia drawls, and Quinn blushes hotly.

"Shit. I still feel bad about that," Quinn replies, cringing. "Regardless of what we agreed to, that so wasn't cool. I'm pretty sure you know it wasn't intentional though."

Olivia actually manages a small smile and nods.

"I know, Q. Still not fun though."

Quinn smiles sheepishly and takes another sip of her latte, just to have something to do.

"Whoever Rachel is, Quinn, I hope she recognizes just how lucky she is. And if she doesn't…I hope that you can move past it. I've done the whole pining after someone who doesn't want you back thing. Trust me, I know how much it sucks. But after a while, one day you wake up and you realize that you're starting to feel okay. You realize that you don't feel so tied to those feelings anymore."

Olivia looks disappointed, but it's also clear that she understands. And that's the best that Quinn could have asked for.

"I hope so too," she mumbles, giving Olivia a tiny smile.

"And if that  _does_  happen…" Olivia trails off, voice dripping with teasing innuendo as she waggles her eyebrows.

"Oh please, you'll be so moved on from me by then," she answers, rolling her eyes.

Olivia laughs and then winks jokingly. "Don't be so sure, Q."

"Mhmm, fine. Whatever you say," Quinn smiles, taking a sip of her latte.

It's bizarre, the situation that she finds herself in right now. This is not even remotely how she expected this conversation to go. But Olivia seems to be okay, and is joking around with her and keeping this light and not awkward.

She doubts that they'll manage to be real friends after all this, not when the original foundation of this relationship was casual sex. But it's nice to know that she's leaving this thing with Olivia on a somewhat positive note.

It's nice that she can think about Rachel without guilt now.

**XXxxXX**

The more she thinks about Rachel, the more she realizes just how much she misses her. She needs to see her this weekend. They haven't really talked since last weekend, and she wonders what Rachel's been up to this week. They've shared a couple of brief friendly text messages, but that's pretty much it.

It's already Thursday night and she has no idea what Rachel's plans are for the weekend, but she's caring about that less and less as the minutes pass. She can sit in the room with Rachel while she does homework if she needs to. It really doesn't matter. She just needs to see her.

She pulls her phone from her purse and leans against the window at Woodland, where she stayed after Olivia left a little bit ago. Her contacts flicker by on the screen until she finds the person that she's looking for, hitting the call button.

The phone rings a couple of times once she lifts the speaker to her ear before a confused but friendly voice answers.

"Hey, Quinn! What's up?"

"Hey, Naomi. Listen, I have a favor to ask you…"

**XXxxXX**

"Thanks for doing this, Jordan. It's definitely saving me some time," Quinn thanks him, placing her duffel bag and her backpack in the drunk of the car.

Jordan looks over from where he's standing by the windshield, scraping the last bit of ice residue out of the way that had yet to melt throughout the day.

"It's no problem! Derek was already planning on lending me his car so I could drive to Hartford this afternoon. It makes no difference if I drop you off at your bus station on the way."

Quinn shuts the drunk and moves around to the passenger door, sitting down and soaking up the heat gradually beginning to exit the vents. Jordan keeps the car in park while he lets the windshield to defrost and Quinn fumbles with the radio, looking for a decent station.

"What are you going to Hartford for anyway?"

"Doctor's appointment. I busted my knee pretty bad last season and the orthopedic surgeon I worked with is over there. It's mainly a precautionary check-up since the start of season is getting closer now," Jordan explains, pulling the car out of the parking lot.

Quinn nods as she flips through a couple more radio stations. She's about to pass another one when Jordan stops her.

"No wait! You can't skip past this. This song is, like,  _classic_. C'mon," he interjects, turning his head briefly to grin at her.

"Never would have pictured you to be a U2 guy," Quinn smiles back, turning up the song.

"Psh, it's Bono! Doesn't matter what genres I normally listen to- this comes on and I listen."

Quinn laughs and turns it up even louder, and Jordan starts getting into the song as they reach a stop sign.

"I have kissed honey lips," Jordan belts out, "felt the healing in her finger tips!"

The guy in the car next to them at the stop sign gives them a funny look, and Jordan just waves, making Quinn laugh harder.

"You never told me you could sing!"

"You never asked," Jordan retorts, smiling. "Now, c'mon you're joining me on the chorus for this."

Quinn laughs and waits a couple of seconds for the instrumental signal, and then they both start singing at the top of their lungs.

"But I still haven't found…what I'm looking for! But I still haven't found…what I'm looking for!"

She turns the volume down a little once they get through the chorus so that Jordan can focus on the road better. There isn't any snow, but she still doesn't want them to be reckless.

"Oh man, it's been a while since I've done that in the car with someone," she laughs, smiling over at him.

"Really?"

"Yep. The end of the summer, I think. With Rachel," Quinn answers, gazing out the window. Those moments with Rachel feel like a lifetime ago.

Jordan reaches over and turns the radio down even more so that it's barely audible in the background and then glances over at her.

"How're you feeling about this weekend?"

Quinn looks out at the little downtown shops as they pass by and tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear.

"Nervous. I hope it's not too awkward being together again after everything that's happened. But I miss her. I miss her constantly. So I'm mainly really happy I get to see her soon, even if I'm a little scared," Quinn replies quietly, staring out the window instead of looking at Jordan.

"I think it's going to be fine. I'm still not sure why you feel the need to surprise her, but hey that's your call."

Quinn folds her hands together in her lap and then looks down. It's still strange sometimes to have someone that she is consistently open and honest with. Jordan has become her confidante in so many ways, and it's weird to think about how much she's gotten used to telling him things. She doesn't always open up immediately, but sooner or later she tells him. That's just the way they work now.

"It's because I…I don't want her to censor herself," Quinn admits, sounding a little guilty. Jordan looks confused, so she explains. "I know her. If I told her ahead of time that I was coming, she would obsess over what to say and how to act around me after what happened the last time we were together. She would have this perfectly rehearsed dialogue, and I'm sure it would be really sweet but it would be…it would just be to cover up how nervous an unsure she is. Is it so bad for me to want to see how she genuinely reacts, to hear what she has to say when she doesn't have time to prepare beforehand?"

Jordan reaches over to squeeze her hand once before placing it back on the wheel and turning into the port authority parking lot.

"No, it's not bad. I think she's going to be really happy to see you, Quinn. I highly doubt that she'll be mad at you for surprising her. Rachel will be too caught up in you actually being there to worry about anything else," Jordan reassures her.

"You think so?" Quinn asks nervously, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"I do," he answers without pause, stepping out of the car to unlock the trunk for Quinn. He hands over her backpack and duffel bag once the trunk is open and then holds his arms out. "C'mere."

Quinn steps into his embrace immediately, setting her duffel bag on the ground for a moment.

"You'll be fine," he whispers into her hair. "Just be you. You're Rachel's best friend for a reason, and I'm sure that reason still stands even after all this recent stuff."

"Thanks," Quinn mumbles back, squeezing his back one last time. "Love you."

"Love you too, Quinn," he answers, stepping back with a smile. "Now get outta here and go see your girl," he orders, winking and giving her a playful shove.

"Bye! Drive safe to Hartford, please!"

"I will. Try not to get stranded anywhere on your way to the city!" Jordan shouts back, already several feet away and stepping back into the car.

Quinn smiles as she watches him drive away and then turns to get inside the terminal where it's warmer. It'll be December tomorrow and it feels like it's getting colder every single day. She clutches her duffle bag in her hand, regretting that her gloves are packed away in her backpack, and hurries into the building to get out of the cold.

Just a couple more hours. A couple more hours and then she will be able to hug Rachel and talk to her for real.

She's getting impatient and she hasn't even boarded her bus yet.

**XXxxXX**

Her phone starts ringing and she answers it immediately, lifting the speaker to her ear.

"Hey, are you in the lobby of the dorm?"

"Yes, I'm down here and following your instructions. Though I have to be honest, you're making me a little nervous, Naomi. I've been going through every plausible scenario in my head that I can think of for why you would want me to call you when I got back from the library before coming up to the room and I've yet to come up with a theory that doesn't make me incredibly worried. You didn't explode paint all over our room or something, did you? Or perhaps acquire an illegal animal?"

Naomi laughs and gives a reassuring smile to the room's other occupant before shutting the door behind her and walking towards the elevator.

"No, I promise it's nothing like that. I'm hanging up on you now because I'm in the elevator. I'll see you in a sec."

Naomi hangs up the phone before Rachel can attempt to rant any further. It doesn't matter, because Rachel will be able to rant in person in about ninety seconds when Naomi meets her in the lobby.

Sure enough, she only has to take about seven steps past the elevator before Rachel is striding quickly towards her, anxiety written all over her face.

"Naomi, I resent the fact that you-"

"Stop."

Naomi gives her a pleading look and then sighs in relief when Rachel quiets and looks at her expectantly.

"It'll make sense in a second, okay? I promise."

She re-enters the elevator, this time with Rachel in tow, and pushes the button for their floor to head back to their room.

"Can you please just-"

"No."

"I hate you sometimes."

Naomi rolls her eyes and looks over to a pouting Rachel.

"You won't in a minute. Trust me."

When the doors slide open on their floor, Rachel rushes out immediately, impatient to get to their room. Naomi has to jog a couple of steps to catch up to her, and then places her hand on her arm to slow her down. They're only a few feet away from their door when Naomi turns her around, forcing Rachel to pause and meet her eyes.

"On the off chance that this  _isn't_  okay, I'll be in the lounge on the third floor if you need me."

"Naomi, what on earth are you…"

But her roommate is already walking away back down the hall before she can finish her question or demand an explanation. She stares in muted horror at the door of her dorm room, trying to envision what could possibly lie on the other side.

Finally, after several moments, she takes one steadying breath and pushes the key into the lock, opening the door.

She doesn't even know what she's expecting when she actually pushes the door open, but she knows it's not this.

Because all she can do is stand there with her mouth hanging open when she pushes open her door and sees Quinn Fabray sitting on her bed.

"Hey, Rach," Quinn greets tentatively, giving her a soft smile.

Rachel stares for several seconds to convince herself that she's actually here before she jumps forward. Quinn is standing up as she does so and Rachel collides with her, wrapping her arms around Quinn fiercely.

She feels strong arms wrap around her lower back to support her and Rachel squeezes her arms around Quinn's shoulders, burying her face against her neck.

It takes several seconds for her to realize that at some point she spontaneously started crying, and Quinn traces her fingers up and down her back in soothing patterns. She hears a soft laugh right next to her ear and then a sniffle, and she knows that Quinn gets it.

Quinn moves to step back slightly, but Rachel only grips her shoulders tighter, holding her in place.

"Don't even think about it, Fabray. I'll let you know when I'm ready to stop hugging you."

All she gets is a teary laugh in response, and then Quinn's head is resting on top of hers, arms cradled around her.

Quinn doesn't let go.


	37. Chapter 37

She has no idea how long she’s been hugging Rachel like this, and she really doesn’t care. There’s soft brown hair against her cheek, arms wrapped tightly around her back, and a face pressing into her shoulder. Rachel was crying briefly, but it was probably more from surprise and relief than anything else and she’s stopped now.

Rachel seems content to keep her head rested on Quinn’s shoulder and her arms woven around her waist, while the gentle flowery scent of her hair overwhelms Quinn’s senses and lulls her into the warmth and comfort of this moment. 

Somewhere in the past couple of minutes she went from hugging Rachel to holding Rachel, and she isn’t certain what the difference is but she knows it’s there. She thinks it might be the moment where both people stop thinking about stepping away. 

Even though she knows she has to move past her feelings for Rachel, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get over how achingly perfect it feels to hold her. When Rachel is in her arms like this, she gets to be the momentary guard of her heart. She gets to be the one who makes her feel safe and loved. In these fleeting moments, there is no fear of insecurity or weight of old transgressions, there is no past to overcome or future to fear.  

“What are you doing here?” Rachel mumbles into her neck, making no effort to move, and Quinn smiles. 

“I have this friend in the city…” Quinn replies airily, and Rachel pinches at the skin of her back through her shirt. “…suppose you could call her a best friend,” she adds, and finally pulls back with a laugh to look into Rachel’s eyes.

Rachel rolls her eyes and smiles, loosening her grip on Quinn but keeping her arms linked around her back.

“I’m here because I missed you,” she says, tone much more gentle and genuine this time. “There’s no way I was going to wait another week to see you.”

Rachel looks over Quinn’s shoulder to a small packed suitcase sitting on the floor by their nightstand.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she laughs, and Quinn turns her head to see the suitcase too.

“I know, Naomi told me when I called her yesterday. I knew you were really busy and wouldn’t be able to leave until after dinner though. And I haven’t visited you since early October, so I figured it was my turn anyway.”

Rachel smiles this perfect little half smile, not the full megawatt one that she often does. It’s that soft smile she gets when she’s happy in a contented way, and the fleeting intimacy of it makes Quinn’s stomach flutter whenever it happens. 

“You could have told me,” Rachel chastises, and Quinn bites her lip through her smile.

“And ruin the opportunity to surprise you and get tackle hugged? Not a chance.”

Quinn looks into those expressive brown eyes directly for the first time since she arrived, and she feels her heart race even as the rest of her body acclimates to the familiarity of it. It’s that bizarre intoxicating blend of something familiar with something still so unknown, and it’s the feeling that she has yet to find with someone else. She thinks about what Olivia said yesterday, about how it will fade if given enough time, about how one day she’ll be able to wake up and realize that she doesn’t feel so tied to these feelings anymore. She hopes that Olivia is right, because Quinn honestly doesn’t know how much longer she can bear this feeling of being impossibly tethered to a person who isn’t tethered in return. 

Rachel deflects her gaze under the intensity of Quinn’s stare and steps back, causing Quinn to look away as well, cheeks blushing pink. Her arms are no longer looped around Quinn’s waist but she’s still standing closely and smiling.

“Well I’m certainly not complaining. I would have done anything to see you, but I definitely wasn’t looking forward to the trek up to New Haven,” Rachel responds, pushing away the flicker of awkwardness that just passed between them. 

Quinn can still sense it in her body language though, and she reaches out, lightly holding her wrist.

“Rach, look at me,” she requests, seeking out eye contact. Rachel fidgets awkwardly for a beat before meeting her eyes with an indiscernible expression on her face. “We’re going to talk about it. I promise. We don’t have to ignore it and pretend like it didn’t happen, but I want us to relax and just spend some time together before we talk this out. Okay?”

Her shoulders sag in relief as she exhales and nods, meeting Quinn’s eyes fully.

“You don’t have to feel awkward,” Quinn states quietly, insecurity and shyness taking over. “I understand if you do, but you don’t have to. And you don’t have to treat me like I’m going to break any second. Just be you, alright?” She fights to maintain eye contact even as her voice fades into a hesitant whisper. 

Rachel is quiet for several seconds and Quinn can tell that something is wrong. She sees the moisture building in Rachel’s eyes before the girl looks back down to the carpet and wraps her arms around herself. 

“I’m so sorry I left you like that,” she chokes out, voice trembling. “At your dorm. I’m…I’m so sorry, Quinn. I can’t believe I…”

Quinn steps forward immediately, wrapping her arms around her again, and she can feel the tension radiating from Rachel’s posture.

“Shh, Rach, no,” Quinn whispers, resting her hands gently against Rachel’s back. “We’re not doing this. We’re not doing the blame game. I know you had your reasons for leaving,” she soothes, tracing her fingertips in circles against her shirt. “I didn’t understand right away, but I get it now.”

“But you looked so….” Rachel mumbles into her shoulder. “God, the look on your face that night when I left. I don’t ever want to…I’m supposed to be your…” she attempts to vocalize her thoughts, but it’s only coming out as a jumbled mess.

“Rachel, _breathe_ ,” she commands gently, leaning back so that she can force Rachel to meet her eyes. When she finally locks onto teary brown irises, she gives her a small smile and nods to get her to relax. The tension in Rachel’s posture eases marginally, but she still looks upset and Quinn can’t stand how much the girl is already placing guilt on herself. “Hey,” she speaks again, begging Rachel to focus on her words,” you’re still my best friend.”

Quinn echoes the exact sentiment that Rachel used on her in the past and then smiles widely, watching as Rachel sniffles and then fights off a smile too. 

“Quinn…” 

“No more getting down on yourself,” she orders, and Rachel finally rolls her eyes and laughs, wiping at her face with her shirt sleeve. “Now I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten dinner yet and I think my stomach is gonna start growling in super embarrassing ways if I don’t eat soon.”

Rachel shakes her head, smiling, and Quinn feels that warmth that comes from being around Rachel return.

“You’re such a dork sometimes,” she laughs, and Quinn just nods in agreement, not even bothered.

“A dork who’s craving pasta. You ready to go grab some dinner?”

“Sure,” Rachel agrees, reaching over to get her wallet from her backpack and her keys from the desk where she dropped them. 

She finally looks comfortable again, and Quinn relaxes, relieved. It’s inevitable that this won’t be the last difficult conversation of the weekend, but at least they’re not trying to tackle this all at once. At least she gets to enjoy Rachel’s company for a while before they work through the hard stuff together. 

“Do you mind if we just go down to the dining hall though? I don’t really feel like going out, if that’s okay,” Rachel admits, placing her wallet and keys into the purse at the end of her bed. “I’m sure they’ll have some kind of pasta there for you to enjoy,” she adds, and Quinn laughs.

“I’m fine with that, Rach. I don’t really feel like going out either.”

Rachel nods and moves toward the door, Quinn directly following, and then turns around abruptly once her hand is on the door knob. 

“You’re still my best friend too,” she confesses, lips quirked up in a small smile. “And I’m really happy you’re here.”

Rachel barely waits long enough to see the happiness shining in Quinn’s eyes before she turns back around and pushes the door open into the hallway, and Quinn follows her toward the elevator. 

Some room that they pass is playing their music really loudly, and Rachel does some silly little skip dance to the beat as she continues down the hall. 

“And you say _I’m_ the dork,” Quinn teases, calling out ahead of her.

Rachel tosses back a weak glare and then does a ridiculous exaggerated skip in response.

Quinn laughs and smiles fondly once Rachel is facing forward again.

Yeah. The girl is a total dork. 

And Quinn missed her like crazy.  

** XXxxXX **

“I don’t understand how you’re only eating a small salad for dinner. That’s not enough food, Rach,” Quinn comments after they’ve been sitting in the dining hall for several minutes. 

Quinn managed to find some pesto penne and takes another satisfied bite while eyeing Rachel’s plate with concern.

“I’m just not very hungry right now,” Rachel replies, brushing it off. She stirs her fork through the lettuce and barely eats the small amount that she has in front of her.

“Why not?” 

Rachel looks down to her plate, avoiding Quinn’s eyes, and shrugs her shoulders. 

“I’m fine.”

“Rachel…”

“I’m nervous, okay?” Rachel finally mumbles, glancing up. “I lose my appetite when I’m nervous.”

Quinn sets down her fork and looks at her, feeling her stomach clench uncomfortably. Rachel seemed okay in the hallway upstairs. It felt like things had settled, at least momentarily. But Quinn can see now that it was a temporary lapse, a fleeting carefree moment where Rachel was able to put aside everything left unspoken. She can see now that Rachel is far more timid and unsure than she’s been letting on for the past several minutes. Now that the initial happiness and surprise of Quinn’s arrival has passed, Rachel is quiet and reserved, a far cry from the Rachel Berry that she knows. 

“Why are you nervous?” Quinn asks gently, trying to put her at ease. But Rachel gives her a guarded look, raising her eyebrows, silently telling Quinn that she should already know the answer. 

Rachel looks down to her salad again without saying anything, and Quinn feels her heart beat heavily against her chest as her pulse quickens.

“It’s just me, Rach,” she murmurs, trying to sound confident and relaxed. But somehow she ends up sounding just as insecure and timid as the girl sitting across from her. “Is it…do I make you uncomfortable?” Quinn asks in a pained whisper when Rachel continues to remain silent. “I-I’m sorry…it was probably bad enough when you found out I was gay in general, but now it’s just…”

“Quinn,” Rachel interjects, eyes widening. “Oh my god, _no_. I’m nervous because I’m afraid to say the wrong thing. It’s just…you’re _here_. You’re finally here and I get to see you and be with you, and I feel like I’m walking on eggshells just waiting for everything to break,” she explains, finally meeting Quinn’s eyes. 

Quinn stares at her, trying to absorb what Rachel is saying and make sense of it.

“I don’t know what you expect from me, Quinn,” she admits in a whisper after an elongated pause. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.”

“Rachel,” she answers, voice wavering, “we’ve both hurt each other before. I hurt you intentionally for a long time. But…I know that you would never intentionally hurt _me_. And I hope you know I would never hurt you like that again, not on purpose.”

Rachel blinks rapidly to keep her emotions in check and Quinn places her palm on the table, fingertips itching to grasp Rachel’s hand. 

“So…I may end up feeling hurt at some point this weekend, and you might too,” Quinn continues.  “But I think what matters the most is that we both know we’re not doing it on _purpose_ and that…we need to be honest with each other. I can’t fault you for being _you_ , and I don’t want to. You’re my best friend for a reason, Rach. So just…promise me that you’ll try to be yourself this weekend, even if it’s awkward. I didn’t come to the city to spend a weekend with someone who’s nervous to be around me. I came here for Rachel Berry, and I really hope I get to enjoy some time with her,” she finishes, lips quirking up into a playful smile. 

Rachel smiles this beautiful beaming smile in return and wipes at her eyes, then reaches over and lightly rests her hand on top of Quinn’s. 

“Well I’d very much like to spend some time with Quinn Fabray, so I suppose that works out in my favor,” Rachel replies playfully, and Quinn gives her a shy smile. 

“Good,” Quinn answers after a beat. “Will you eat your dinner now?”

Rachel rolls her eyes and smacks at Quinn’s hand lightly, leaning back into her chair. That’s the thing about Quinn- she can go from serious and emotionally bare in one moment, to completely teasing and lighthearted the next. She thinks it might be a defense mechanism, but right now Rachel is honestly thankful for it. 

“Ugh, why did I even get salad? The salad bar here is awful,” Rachel whines, poking at the slightly wilted lettuce.

Quinn laughs, looking down to Rachel’s pathetic salad, and then over to her own plate.

“I’d give you the rest of my pasta, but I’m pretty sure they used cream in the pesto sauce. Do you want to get something else to eat? We can if you need to. I don’t want you to be hungry.”

Rachel looks down at her food for several seconds, contemplating, and then she meets Quinn’s eyes again with a smile on her face.

“I want food. But I have a different idea in mind…”

Quinn quirks her eyebrow, curious, and Rachel’s smile widens.

“How do you feel about brownies?”

“Umm, Rach,” Quinn blinks, confused, “brownies aren’t exactly a meal. And even if they were, I doubt the brownies here are vegan friendly, so…”

Rachel laughs, biting at her lip, and then clarifies.

“I meant, how do you feel about _baking_ brownies? In the kitchen with me. Ones that I can actually eat.”

Quinn’s face lights up when she realizes what Rachel meant, but then looks unsure.

“Do they even have the kitchen stuff that we would need? And we’d have to go get ingredients somewhere…”

Rachel looks so excited though, because Quinn is actually considering it.

“I think we could make it work!” she chirps, excitement bubbling over. “The front desk lets you check out baking pans and kitchen utensils and stuff. Naomi has some of the basic stuff we would need since she cooks sometimes. I’d have to check to see what she still has.”

“What about the other stuff though?”

“We’re in New York City, Quinn. There’s a place to buy groceries, I promise,” she teases, smiling wryly. “There’s a small scale grocery store about a block and a half up the road from here in the opposite direction of the subway.”

“You really want to bake brownies tonight?” Quinn questions, smiling. 

Rachel nods excitedly, biting her lip.

“Yes! Those brownies are practically a tradition of ours. A tradition that’s been neglected since we started school.”

“I think those brownies are the reason I gained five pounds over the summer, as often as we made them,” Quinn jokes, standing up with Rachel to put their dishes away and clear the table.

“Oh stop it, your body is perfect,” Rachel huffs, depositing her leftover lettuce in the trash without thinking about her words. 

Quinn freezes a couple steps behind her though, holding her tray, and looks down with an embarrassed blush painting her cheeks. It’s only when Rachel doesn’t see Quinn come up behind her to deposit her tray that she realizes what she just said and spins around.

She takes in Quinn’s awkward and guarded stance, the way that her eyes are focused resolutely on her tray, and flinches.

“Quinn, I’m…god, I really have no filter sometimes. I’m not trying to...I just think that you’re perfect the way you are and I don’t like to hear you casually get down on yourself like that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Rach,” Quinn mumbles, clearing her throat and stepping around her to throw out her trash.

“I’m realizing I need to be more aware of how I word my compliments, or I’ll just be…” Rachel trails off, unsure of how to word it delicately. 

“Saying flirtatious things without any intent to actually be flirtatious?” Quinn supplies honestly, saving Rachel from trying to find the right words.

Rachel blushes and looks to the ground.

“Yeah. That.”

Quinn spares her the embarrassment and discomfort, stepping forward to rest her hand on her shoulder gently.

“Hey, it’s okay.  Come on, let’s go figure out what we need to buy from the store.”

Rachel sighs in relief and lets Quinn lead them back to the lobby of the dorm and the elevators. Quinn glances to the side and gives Rachel a reassuring smile once the doors glide shut, because she can tell that Rachel still feels a little bad. 

It’s such a hard thing to navigate, because she wants Rachel to be herself. She doesn’t want their friendship to change. But at the same time, change is inevitable, at least a little bit. Rachel can’t toss out innocent compliments between friends in the same way that she used to, and Quinn can’t hear them without being affected by her words. She hears Rachel call her beautiful, tell her that any girl would be lucky to be with her, tell her that her body is perfect, and it makes her heart clench. It’s like having someone dangle something directly in front of her that she wants but can’t have. Now that Rachel is aware of this in light of Quinn’s confession, it’s bound to alter their dynamic a bit.

She just hopes that Rachel doesn’t get so worried that she alters their dynamic a _lot_. 

Because there is so much about Rachel Berry that she loves as her best friend too, not just as the girl that she’s in love with. 

And she wouldn’t want Rachel to change those parts of herself for anything.  

** XXxxXX **

“Oh god,” Quinn mutters, unpacking their small bag of groceries in the kitchen while Rachel crouches down to enter the pre-heat settings for the oven. 

“What? Did we forget something?” Rachel asks, standing up again as the oven begins to slowly heat itself to 350 degrees.

“No. I just realized that we’re _those_ people. The people who are settling in before eight on a Friday night to _bake_ in a college dorm.”

Rachel stares at her blankly until Quinn bursts out laughing, and Rachel rolls her eyes, laughing too. 

“You say this as if you’re normally so cool…”

‘Rachel Berry! You better watch yourself. I’m the one with the flour right now,” Quinn threatens, eyes alight with happiness.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she retorts, eyes wide and staring at the bag of flour. 

“Oh, I so would.”

“Yeah, well…two can play that game!” Rachel exclaims, grabbing the cocoa powder as her defense. “You get flour on me and your hair is gonna have cocoa all over the place, Fabray.”

Quinn stands frozen while Rachel wields the box of cocoa powder like a shield until they both crack and start laughing again.

“Stalemate?” Quinn manages to question through her laughter.

Rachel sets the cocoa powder back on the counter and nods, still laughing. 

“Groceries are so much more expensive here,” she notes once her laughter has subsided. 

“Living here is expensive in general,” Rachel agrees, opening up the cocoa container and lining up the measuring cups. 

“Do you ever think about stuff like that?”

“What do you mean?” she replies curiously, measuring out the right amount of flour from the bag that Quinn was holding.

“The practical stuff, what it would look like to live here after college. Just daily life in the city. It’s so insanely different from what we grew up with.”

Quinn hands her the half cup for measuring so that she can fill it with water to add to the flour. 

“All the time,” Rachel admits. “I know it’s really different but…I think I was always meant to end up here. It’s such a new place for me but it feels like home.”

Quinn looks over to her and smiles, once again feeling that familiar urge to lay claim on Rachel Berry, to make this one of a kind girl _hers_ and be the one to live out that life in the city with her.

“You belong here, Rachel. Anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

Rachel smiles to herself and reaches for the spatula to mix the flour and water together.

“What about you? Do you think New Haven is where you belong?”

“For college, yes. Beyond that, I don’t think so. Maybe. Who knows?” Quinn offers.  “I like New England though. I like this northeastern part of the country in general. Wherever I go after college, I want to live in a place where I feel like I can be myself,” Quinn admits quietly, focusing on measuring out ingredients so that Rachel can’t see the vulnerability in her eyes. 

Rachel notices anyway though, and she can see Rachel looking at her in her peripheral vision. She sees Rachel reach for her and then decide against it, resting her palms on the counter.

“Do you feel like you can be yourself right now? At Yale, I mean,” Rachel questions softly, waiting to see how Quinn will react.

“Most of the time. The main person keeping me from being myself is _me_. I guess I’m just…I’m still getting used to being in an accepting place. I’m still getting used to being able to kiss a girl in a coffee shop and not have anyone care. So I censor myself sometimes even when I don’t need to.”

Quinn finally meets Rachel’s eyes, curious to see how the girl is reacting. Rachel is standing there with her lip caught between her teeth and she looks like she’s debating whether or not to say something.

“What?” she questions, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Kissing girls in coffee shops…?” Rachel eventually asks with a smile, eyebrow raised. 

Quinn immediately turns toward the counter again, avoiding Rachel’s gaze as she blushes uncomfortably. 

“You get my point,” she mutters, cheeks pink. 

“I do,” Rachel agrees, playful tone to her voice. “Though now you’ve got me wondering if the whole coffee shop scenario was a hypothetical example or an actual thing.”

“Rachel…” Quinn mumbles, trying to evade the topic. “Just let it go.”

“Quinn, you know you can talk to me, right? I get that it’s hard, given our current situation. But I’m here for you. You don’t have to be embarrassed about this stuff around me.”  

“I do though, Rachel. I _do_ have to be embarrassed! Don’t you get that?  Because you’re standing here pretending like we both don’t know that those are things I want with _you_ ,” Quinn responds harshly, and then immediately deflates, shoulders trembling. She turns her back to Rachel, protecting herself on instinct, and wraps her arms around herself. 

Quinn can’t see Rachel to gauge her reaction, but the complete stillness in the room says enough. Rachel doesn’t have any words, and Quinn can’t blame her. She promised herself that she would try not to take this out on Rachel. After all, Rachel can’t help where she stands in this scenario any more than Quinn can. But then Rachel tries to be all supportive and endearing when she just doesn’t _get it_. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Quinn mumbles with self-loathing, back still turned. Rachel is entirely silent, which really doesn’t help matters. Rachel is supposed to be the verbose one during tense moments, but she’s retreating just as much as Quinn is. 

She’s terrified to turn around. She doesn’t know if she could bear to see the look on Rachel’s face right now, likely some miserable mix of discomfort and pity. All she hears is Rachel inhale a shaky breath, but the miniscule sound feels like it clangs across the kitchen.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Quinn admits in a trembling whisper. “Rachel, I don’t know how to _do_ this.”

Rachel is still quiet, but Quinn can hear the soft patter of movement this time, and a moment later there is the tentative ghost of a touch on her shoulders. Rachel’s palms rest there, feather light, and Quinn breaks when she feels her best friend touch her like she’s just as fragile as this entire situation feels. 

“Would it make things worse if I hug you right now?” Rachel asks shakily, voice low.

She doesn’t want to hurt Rachel, but they promised honesty this weekend. More than anything, they promised honesty. 

“Yes.” 

She hears Rachel suck in a breath behind her.  The feather light touch on her shoulders begins to retreat, but Quinn snaps her left hand up, holding the hand on her right shoulder gently in place. She can tell that Rachel is completely unsure of what to do at this point, but she appreciates how well Rachel is keeping it together. That makes one of them, at least.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispers, voice wavering. “It’s not your fault. I…I appreciate when you’re supportive of me, Rach. But…you have to understand that you…”

“That I’m kind of the worst person to tease and talk about girls with you,” Rachel finishes gently, voicing the truth that Quinn is too nervous to admit aloud.

“Yeah.”

“Can we…I know we said we were going to try to just enjoy being around each other for a while first. But…I feel like we can’t. I feel like we can’t really enjoy anything until we get this all out in the open,” Rachel says, voice soft but sure. 

“Okay,” Quinn breathes, nodding her head the slightest bit.

“Why don’t we finish making the batter and get these brownies in the oven? And then we can talk while they bake,” Rachel offers. Quinn doesn’t speak, but she finally turns and meets Rachel’s eyes for a brief instant before reaching for the raw sugar and a measuring cup. 

There are so many different emotions swirling around in Rachel’s eyes, and she refuses to read into them. She just wants to get these brownies, which were supposed to be something fun, into the oven so that she can hear what Rachel has to say rather than try to read into it on her own. 

So she grabs the vanilla and a measuring spoon and tries not to think about their impending conversation. 

Because every second that she thinks about it is another second where she wants to run away from this room as fast as her legs can carry her. 

But she can’t run out on Rachel. She won’t. She promised Rachel that they would talk. 

And she intends to keep that promise, no matter how much the thought of it makes her throat run dry and her hands shake. 


	38. Chapter 38

The silence as they work together in the kitchen is stifling, and Rachel must feel it too because she reaches over and flicks on the radio sitting on the counter in the corner. They catch the end of a Katy Perry song and Quinn rolls her eyes, not quite managing a smile but it’s something.

“Blaine?” Rachel asks with a slight laugh, glancing over at Quinn. She doesn’t need to say anymore, because Quinn shakes her head and fights back a small smile.

“Always. I will never be able to hear Katy Perry without thinking about bow ties and strangely colored pants,” Quinn says, giving Rachel a tentative glance before looking back down to the counter and reaching for the salt. 

“I wonder how he’s doing,” Rachel says, and Quinn relaxes slightly into the small talk. This she can handle.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t really follow stuff on facebook. So other than the fact that he’s in St. Louis, I have no idea what’s new with him.”

“You know he and Kurt broke up though, right?” she asks, accepting the bowl of measured out ingredients from Quinn to add to the flour water mixture. 

“Yeah, but wasn’t that back in October or something?”

“Mhmm. I haven’t talked to Kurt in ages though, and I was never that close with Blaine,” Rachel says, stirring the cocoa powder into the batter. 

“He really never got over his jealousy when you beat him out for NYADA, did he?” 

“No, he didn’t,” Rachel responds quietly, grabbing the pan to add the completed batter mix for baking.

“Bitch.”

“Quinn!” Rachel admonishes, even as she fights off a bit of a smile.

“He was supposed to be your friend. Friends get over their jealousy and support each other. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“Yes, well, you know that didn’t happen. Who knows? Maybe he’s happy in Chicago now and will try to mend things over winter break,” Rachel supplies, forever the optimist looking for the best in people. 

“Whatever. It’s his loss.”

Quinn says it so casually, so confidently, but Rachel looks over at her and smiles and somehow the comment has way more weight than it was meant to. It’s such a simple acknowledgement that says so many things. It says _you’re wonderful_ and _other people would be lucky to have you as a close friend_ and _I recognize how lucky I am_. 

Rachel pulls open the oven door and slides the pan inside, setting the kitchen timer for thirty five minutes. 

“I saved some batter in the bowl for us,” Rachel murmurs in the awkward silence that follows, holding up the bowl as proof. 

“I suppose getting to eat brownie batter might make this conversation a tiny bit easier,” Quinn says, trying to joke even as she feels her chest constrict with nervous energy. “W-where do you want to go?”

Quinn expects her to lead them to another room, perhaps one of the lounges in the dorm. Instead, Rachel surprises her by sliding unceremoniously to the floor, resting her back against the door of the refrigerator. 

“This is the only place I know we won’t be bothered,” she says by way of explanation. “Except my room, but I figured neutral ground and a more open space might be better.”

“People don’t come in the kitchen?” Quinn asks unsurely, stepping closer to Rachel.

“Nope. Not at this time on weekends. I’ve been in here a couple other times right around now and there’s never been anyone else.”

Quinn nods and lowers herself to the tile, sitting a couple feet across from Rachel and leaning her back against one of the cabinets. Rachel places the bowl of leftover batter between them, and Quinn bends her knees towards herself, resting her chin on her knee with her arms wrapped around her legs. 

Rachel observes her quietly, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move in the conversation, and Quinn feels her pulse quicken erratically. Neither of them has any idea how to do to this, and yet someone has to speak. She leans against the cabinet and watches as Rachel fights the impulse to speak first. It’s only when she can see for certain that Quinn isn’t going to be the first one to talk that she says something. 

“So…sophomore year, huh?”

Quinn levels her with a look. “Seriously, Rachel?”

“What? There’s no good way to start this conversation. And you told me that you’ve…felt this way…since sophomore year, so…”

She reaches for a spoon in the brownie batter to give herself time and scoops up a small amount, eating it straight from the bowl. The batter is amazing, exactly like she remembers, and a wave of summer memories hits her. 

“Sophomore year,” Quinn eventually agrees, not adding anything further. She knows that she’s making this difficult for Rachel, but a part of her is curious what she’s going to ask. The rest of her is just trying to avoid this inevitable conversation at all costs.

“When? I mean…when was it during sophomore year? What made you realize?” Rachel asks cautiously and then reaches for a spoon too, some kind of unspoken peace agreement layered into the gesture.

Quinn inhales a deep breath, slow and steady. This is her chance. This is the moment when she lays everything bare.

“It wasn’t any specific moment,” she begins slowly. “And it’s important to know the difference between attraction and…l-love. I was, umm, _attracted_ to you for a while before I ever started realizing that other feelings were there too. I realized I was attracted to you the summer before sophomore year, actually. There was that time I ran into you at the ice cream shop over on Fifth. You were…” Quinn trails off, face blushing.

“Wearing my swimsuit top and jean shorts because I had just come from my cousin’s birthday pool party,” Rachel finishes, eyes widening as she recalls the memory. “Well that explains why you hated me by the first day of school.”

Quinn forces herself to meet Rachel’s eyes, even though her blush still remains, because Rachel _needs_ to understand this.

“Never in my life have I hated you, Rachel. _Ever_. You were something that I _wanted_ , in a way that I had never wanted anything in my life, and it absolutely terrified me. That doesn’t excuse my behavior towards you and it never will. But you have to know that I never hated you, and…there has never been a time…when I didn’t think that you’re beautiful,” Quinn tells her, voice cracking with nervousness. 

This time it’s Rachel’s turn to blush, and she looks down to her lap, squeezing her eyes shut for the briefest moment. Her shy demeanor soon gives way to something else though, and Quinn watches it transform in her eyes. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Quinn whispers, voice pained. “You’re thinking about all the times I made you think the exact opposite.”

Quinn watches the tears form on the edges of her eyes as Rachel tries to fight them off, until she gives in and nods. 

“I can’t help it,” she whispers back. 

“I know you can’t,” Quinn murmurs softly, even while she feels her heart clench painfully. “But you’re beautiful, Rachel. You were beautiful that first day of tenth grade when I snapped at you, and you’re beautiful right now.”

It’s painful to say these things aloud when she knows that Rachel will never return her feelings. It’s painful telling this girl that she’s beautiful when it won’t change the circumstances. But Rachel deserves this. She deserves to hear what Quinn was really thinking during that time, despite how emotionally raw it requires Quinn to be. 

Rachel chokes back some unintelligible sound and places her hand over her mouth, leaning her head down. Quinn watches her close in on herself, and thinks that she would relive that night in New Haven a hundred times over if it meant she could erase the worst of their past. But life doesn’t work that way. She can’t erase what she’s already done. It’s emblazoned in bold marker across their history. The only thing she can do now is try to explain the marks that have already been made, and hope that healing can happen somewhere along the way. 

“If I thought that apologizing would make any difference, Rach, I’d say I’m sorry until I lose my voice,” Quinn tells her, voice gentle even as the crushing guilt weighs down on her. “But I know that apologies sound empty. It’s…it’s taken me a while to realize and accept that the only way we’re going to truly move on from this is if we talk about it.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted what I’ve been trying to tell you for months,” Rachel replies, voice muffled until she raises her head. Quinn gives her a teary smile, because of _course_ Rachel would come back with a comment like that, and Rachel rolls her eyes even as she wipes her own tears away from her face. 

“I’m…I’m in love with you, Rach. I have been for a really long time, and I’ve done some _stupid_ stuff because of it. I’m _still_ in love with you, and I have no idea what that means for us now that you know,” Quinn confesses, and she’s proud that her voice only shakes a little this time. 

“I can’t _not_ have you in my life,” Rachel admits tremulously after a pause. “You’re my _person_ , Quinn, and I know that doesn’t mean what you want it to mean. And maybe I’m really selfish for still wanting you to be that person for me even now that I know about how you feel, but people have been calling me selfish for years and-”

“You’re not selfish, Rach,” Quinn interjects, cutting her off. “Okay, sometimes you can be a little self-interested but that’s only because you have goals that you’re passionate about and I love that about you. The point is, you’re not selfish when it comes to this. You’re my person too, beyond any romantic feelings that I have. You have to realize that you’re my best friend. The things that made me fall in love with you are many of the same things that make me love you as a friend, and that won’t go away. No matter what happens,” Quinn explains, battling to remain patient.

She needs Rachel to see that even though the lines between their friendship and her feelings for Rachel have blurred, there are so many things that she loves about Rachel as a _friend_ too. She needs her to understand that even though it’s hard to be around Rachel when she feels this way, it’s infinitely harder to _not_ have her around. 

Rachel remains quiet for several seconds, thinking over Quinn’s words and trying to figure out where this leaves them. 

“So you’re saying that…you still want to be my best friend even if I can’t…even if you…”

“Yes,” Quinn emphasizes, even though Rachel didn’t voice her thoughts clearly. She can tell what Rachel means. “And maybe some people would tell me that I’m stupid for that. They’d tell me that I need to establish some distance if I ever want to move on.”

Rachel folds her legs and clasps her hands together in her lap, ducking her head down.

“Maybe…maybe there’s some truth to that,” Rachel mumbles, afraid to meet Quinn’s eyes. 

Quinn looks at her sharply, but doesn’t say anything yet. 

“How do you know that’s not what you need right now, Quinn? I mean, I want to be selfish in this and keep you as my best friend like you were before. But…if that’s going to _hurt_ you, if that’s going to make things worse, then…” Rachel’s words taper off helplessly, and she finally glances up to gauge Quinn’s reaction. 

Quinn has that look on her face, the contemplative one that she gets when she’s trying to solve something difficult. Right now it’s from the complexity of trying to find the right words to say to explain this to Rachel properly.

“When I got my acceptance letter to Yale,” Quinn replies slowly, “you were the first person that I wanted to tell. I was so in love with you at that point, and had been for a long time. But that’s not why you were the first person, Rach. When Principal Figgins called me to his office to tell me that I would be the valedictorian for our graduating class, the first thing I thought of was how excited I was to tell you that I did it, that I actually accomplished that. And when…when you and Finn broke off your engagement, I wanted to be the one to take care of you and hold you while you cried. But those were all things that I wanted to do because I love you, not because I’m _in_ love with you. Do you see what I mean?” Quinn questions, begging Rachel to understand.

“I’m…not exactly,” Rachel responds, and Quinn can see how hard she’s trying to make sense of it all.

“I’m saying that I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I’ve also loved you as a friend for quite a while now. The two seem so impossibly linked. But if you took away my romantic feelings, if I knew that nothing more would ever happen between us, I’d still be here. I _am_ still here. Because there are so many reasons that I love you as a friend, not just as someone I wish could… be my girlfriend. I _can’t_ not be around you or not talk to you. I’d miss you as my best friend who isn’t around more than I’d miss you as anything else.”

She sees a tiny smile appear on Rachel’s face, but more than anything she sees the understanding in Rachel’s eyes. Quinn sees that she is finally starting to make sense. 

“So when you say that I’m still your best friend, you…”

“I mean exactly that,” Quinn finishes, giving her a soft smile. “That’s why…that’s why I got so upset when I admitted this to you in New Haven. It wasn’t because…Rach, I never expected you to love me back like that. I mean, a part of me _hoped_ you would, but realistically I knew the chances were slim.”

She sees Rachel’s eyes widen in understanding, and relief floods through Quinn’s entire body.

“It was because I questioned if you were ever really my friend in the first place,” Rachel breathes, meeting Quinn’s eyes. 

“Yeah. I’ll be honest, I would be have been upset no matter what because it was scary as hell to finally tell you. And no matter how much I tried to fight it, there was always this stupid part of me that hoped you would love me back. I held on to that, and that’s one of the many reasons why I didn’t want to tell you for so long. I knew that little hope would be ruined the minute I told you the truth. But I would have made it through. The worst part was everything else that happened.”

“This makes so much more sense now,” Rachel says, almost to herself, and then looks back at Quinn. “You have no idea how much I regret leaving you there. But…you understand why I did, right?”

“I do,” she states quietly, thinking back to that night. It hurt so much at the time, and she couldn’t understand why Rachel would give up and run away like that. But she gets it now, and she doesn’t fault Rachel for leaving. 

She realizes that sometimes a person’s decision to leave isn’t the most important thing. Sometimes, what matters most is whether or not they decide to come back. 

“You think you can be around me and talk to me, then? You’re serious about not wanting space? Because Q, if you need me to step back for a while I will, even if it’s hard,” Rachel tells her, and she sounds so adamant that Quinn can’t help but smile.

“I’m serious, Rach. I’m working on trying to move on, and I don’t think that avoiding you will help with that,” she answers clearly to put Rachel at ease. “Especially not if the past three weeks are any indication.”

Quinn watches as a blush creeps up on Rachel’s cheeks, and it only takes a second for her to realize why. Quinn made it pretty clear not too long ago exactly how she was trying to move on, per Rachel’s request. 

She watches Rachel glance down to the tile floor, avoiding Quinn’s eyes as she tries to figure out how to bring that up delicately, or if she should even bring it up at all. 

“I broke things off with her, Rachel,” she says, answering the unspoken question. “As much as you can break off something that was never an official thing to begin with, anyway.”

“Why?” Rachel asks, stirring a spoon around in the brownie batter to keep her hands busy. 

“Because it was complicating things more than it was helping.” 

She knows that she’s being vague, but Rachel doesn’t need all the details. Especially not right now. Rachel nods, accepting her generalized answer, and it makes Quinn think about _Rachel’s_ love life for the first time in a while.  She’s been so focused on her own feelings that she’d been ignoring what was going on with Rachel in that department. 

“What about you?” Quinn asks cautiously, trying to be casual and supportive. “How are things going with that Luke guy? That was his name, right?”

Rachel looks up from the floor, blinking at her in surprise and then bites her lip between her teeth.

“You don’t have to do this, Quinn. I’m pretty sure this is one of the last things you want to hear about right now.”

Quinn swallows thickly and picks at a loose thread on the end of her shirt sleeve, pulling her legs closer against her chest.

“I’m…Look, this is me trying, okay? Yeah, it’s awkward. But I can handle it. And I want us to start trying to get back to normal. That’s never gonna happen if you feel like you can’t tell me important things that are happening in your life. More than anything I just want you to be happy. So if I get to hear about something that makes you happy, then I’ll be okay with it eventually.”

Rachel looks like she’s internally debating something for several moments before she sets the spoon back down and leans against the refrigerator again.

“I have a date with him on Wednesday,” she responds quietly, meeting Quinn’s eyes with extreme caution.

“Oh?”

“It’s kind of a last effort, at this point. I don’t want to give up without giving him one more chance, but I don’t know if I can see it going anywhere with him,” Rachel admits, and Quinn frowns, caught off guard by her response.

“How come?” Quinn questions, and she actually doesn’t feel like she’s asking just to torture herself. She genuinely cares about why Rachel is so disenchanted about something she was excited about up until recently.

“There’s no…” Rachel mumbles, looking down to her lap shyly.

“What?” Quinn stretches her leg out to tap her foot gently against Rachel’s calf, trying to get her to look up.  

“Spark,” Rachel whispers, meeting her eyes. “There’s no spark with him.”

Quinn feels her stomach flip against her will and her pulse flutters through her veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Quinn eventually answers, because she can’t think of anything else to say that sounds right. 

“I bet,” Rachel scoffs lightly, rolling her eyes. 

“Hey, none of that,” she admonishes, tapping her foot against Rachel again. “Just because you’re not with me doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy. I’m sorry it’s not working out with him like you wanted.”

“Maybe there’s just no such thing as spark. Not like all the stories make it sound. Maybe comfortable and intelligent and safe _is_ what I should be looking for,” Rachel sighs, tilting her head back against the refrigerator. “Is it stupid for me to still want epic romance?”

“No,” Quinn answers, even as her chest feels like it’s constricting in a hundred uncomfortable ways. “No, it’s not. It’s unrealistic to think that you’ll find somebody perfect to be your real life fairytale, but I don’t think that’s what you mean. You already learned that with Finn,” she supplies gently. “But there’s a difference between chasing after an unrealistic fairytale and looking for something more than just _comfortable_.” 

“Do you remember the movie _The Princess Diaries 2_?” Rachel asks, smiling a little as she stares up at the ceiling.

Quinn laughs and tries to think about what Rachel is referencing. It takes her a moment, but she remembers.

“Yeah, I do.”

“And there was that guy Andrew that she was supposed to marry. Everything about him was right. He was sweet and intelligent and a total gentleman. But she couldn’t marry him, because-”

“Because she said there was no spark,” Quinn finishes softly, remembering the scene. 

“Exactly. And it’s _so_ Disney, but I just…” Rachel leaves the sentence hanging, knowing that Quinn understands what she means. 

“It’s not just Disney though. Like think about Ross and Rachel on Friends. They weren’t a fairytale and they were comfortable, but they still had that spark. That’s slightly more realistic than future queen of Genovia or whatever, at least,” Quinn laughs, and Rachel smiles too.

“I remember,” Rachel answers, keeping her eyes focused on the ceiling above. “That episode where she talks to him about Barry and how she wonders if it’s possible to find someone who-”

Rachel cuts off the thought before she can complete it aloud, but it’s too late. Quinn got the reference immediately because they’ve both seen all these episodes multiple times. 

She knows what Rachel just left unsaid.

How, in that episode, she asks Ross if it’s possible to have someone who’s like a best friend but who can also make your toes curl. 

Quinn blushes bright pink while Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, and the only sound is the muffled tick of the kitchen timer. 

“I can’t believe I almost just said that,” Rachel mutters in disbelief, eyes still clenched shut. 

Quinn can’t believe it either, but she can’t find the words to talk right now. She can’t find any words because her mind is stuck on the thought of Rachel Berry and curling toes, and a whole host of things that she does _not_ want in her head right now. 

So she does the only thing she can-

She ignores Rachel entirely and stands up to check on their brownies in the oven. She pulls open the oven door and grabs a knife to check the consistency of the brownies while Rachel remains mortified on the kitchen floor.

“I think they’re about done,” Quinn mumbles, clearing her throat. She grabs the oven mitts from the counter and slides out the pan, placing it on the cooling rack sitting on the counter. Then she inhales the smell of fresh home-made brownies and waits for Rachel to say something, anything to break the intense awkwardness of this.

“Can we _please_ pretend that never happened and just eat chocolate now?” Rachel mumbles into her hands.

“I think that’s a good plan,” Quinn agrees, looking down with sympathy at how embarrassed Rachel is.

“Hey,” Quinn calls out gently, waiting for Rachel to look up before she continues. Rachel finally gives in and looks at her, face flushed pink. “It wouldn’t be a weekend with Rachel Berry without at least one unfiltered comment,” Quinn says, smiling, and watches Rachel’s shoulders sag in relief. 

This whole friendship in the aftermath thing is definitely going to have its awkward moments. 

But when Rachel looks at the baked brownies and smiles widely, glancing over at Quinn, she knows this period of awkwardness will be entirely worth it. 

Because it means that she doesn’t have to lose Rachel.  

It means she’ll still have her best friend. 

 


	39. Chapter 39

Quinn wakes to the sound of a blaring fire truck siren on the street below and rolls onto her back, rubbing her eyes and blinking up at the ceiling. A steady stream of sunlight has made its way through the curtain, and when she lifts her neck to look at the nightstand behind her, she sees on Rachel’s alarm clock that it’s a little before nine. 

Her legs feel like they’re constricted, and when she looks down at them she sees her sleeping bag twisted into a tangled heap. She reaches forward to straighten out the twisted linens around her legs and then sits up, letting the sleeping bag slip away from her torso as she stretches her arms above her head. 

Rachel has always been a light sleeper and so Quinn looks up at where she is sleeping on the mattress, curious if the noise woke her up too. Either way, Rachel isn’t one for sleeping in super late, so she would have been waking up soon no matter what. But she watches as Rachel’s eyes flutter open, cheek pressed into her pillow on the edge of her bed. Her hand is curled around her comforter and she releases a contented sigh, burrowing into her pillow even more as she slowly wakens. 

Quinn smiles at how adorable she looks all wrapped up in her blankets, face free of make-up and hair in dark natural waves that she never lets the world see. It’s always either straightened, or straightened only to be curled evenly. She knows that Rachel barely believes in her beauty even when her hair is styled and her make-up is meticulously applied. She knows that Rachel would never believe how perfectly beautiful she looks like _this_ , when the only thing covering her face and her hair is morning sunlight. 

She knows Rachel wouldn’t believe it, and she’s aware of how awkward it would be to say given their current situation. So she doesn’t say anything about how beautiful Rachel looks right now. Instead, she smiles widely until Rachel giggles in return and then hides her face in her pillow. 

“Good morning,” Quinn whispers as she smiles, trying not to wake Naomi.

Rachel keeps her face pressed into her pillow for a few seconds before turning, causing a few hairs on her head to rise with the static generated by the movement.

“Hi,” Rachel whispers back, rubbing at her eyes too. 

“Can you hand me my glasses? I can’t reach them from down here,” Quinn asks quietly from her spot on the floor. Rachel reaches over to the nightstand, wedged between the two beds right near where Quinn’s head was just resting, and hands them down to Quinn. 

“I forget you even need those,” Rachel laughs quietly as Quinn pushes the thin black-framed glasses onto her face. 

“That’s because they make me look ridiculous,” Quinn mutters, blushing in embarrassment. “I’m gonna go put my contacts in as soon as I get up.”

She runs her fingers through tangled blonde hair and looks away, because she can’t stand to see the warm gaze of Rachel’s eyes watching her right now. Those eyes that are all sleepy and chocolate brown and alight with serene happiness. Quinn needs caffeine before she can even begin to deal with that. 

“I don’t think they’re ridiculous. They make you look intelligent, sophisticated,” Rachel muses, and Quinn can still feel Rachel’s eyes on her.

“I think the word you’re looking for is nerdy,” Quinn mumbles, unzipping her sleeping bag so that she can stand up and go put her contacts in. She’s had poor eyesight ever since junior high. Two years of being ridiculed for her glasses, among other things, was more than enough for a lifetime. 

“Nope. I meant what I said,” Rachel counters, smiling and daring Quinn to question her.

“But-”

“I’m sure Quinn looks hot with or without glasses,” Naomi grumbles into her pillow, catching both of them off guard. “What time is it and why is there talking?”

Quinn blushes while she reaches into her duffel bag, and Rachel rolls her eyes.

“She’s not a morning person,” Rachel explains, making Quinn laugh.

“I see that.”

“Yes, she’s quite scary until she’s had her coffee,” Rachel adds, and Naomi lifts her arm to flip her off without opening her eye. “Absolute monster, to be honest.” 

“Fuck you,” Naomi retorts, voice muffled by her pillow.

“I love you too.”

Quinn watches the entire exchange with amusement, shaking her head. This is the Rachel that she loves, the Rachel that so few people get to see, where her humor is occasionally dry and sarcastic and she’s not in fear of accidentally upsetting someone. The fact that Rachel is so easily like this with Naomi makes it abundantly clear how close the two must be. 

“I’ll love you back if you get the coffee pot going for me,” Naomi mumbles, finally cracking an open to look at the clock. “What is it with you weirdoes waking up before ten on weekends?”

Rachel rolls her eyes but walks over to their mini fridge and the small tray that sits on top, containing Naomi’s coffee pot and grinds. Quinn is holding her contacts case and saline solution, about to walk into the hallway, when Rachel gently touches her shoulder to stop her.

“Did you sleep okay?” Rachel looks kind of guilty, like she’s somehow at fault.  

“I slept just fine, Rach. You really didn’t have to take your mattress pad off the bed for me. I would have been fine,” Quinn assures, because Rachel looks like she still feels bad. 

“There’s absolutely no way I would have let you sleep on the floor without _some_ type of cushioning! I still can’t believe you actually slept there.”

Last night, when it was time to figure out sleeping arrangements, Quinn had insisted that she needed to sleep on the floor. Rachel was worried that something was really wrong and that Quinn was about to end up crying on the floor like that other time, but Quinn assured her that wasn’t the case. She just thought it would be less awkward for both of them if they slept separately. It would be one thing if Rachel had a queen bed, but she has a small dorm room single that doesn’t allow for much other than cuddling when it comes to two people trying to share.  

“And you thought I was going to share that small bed with you?” Quinn raises her eyebrow, watching Rachel duck her head shyly. 

“We’ve shared a bed before, Quinn. You’ve never been bothered by it in the past,” she replies softly, cheeks tinted pink. 

“Yes, well, I can’t exactly control my actions when I’m sleeping and I figured that, in light of everything, you wouldn’t appreciate it if you woke up with me spooning you,” Quinn states, looking Rachel in the eye and trying to make her point clear. 

“She didn’t seem to mind it last time you visited,” Naomi mumbles from somewhere under her blanket, and Rachel looks away, blush deepening. 

Quinn glances down to the carpet as well, remembering the morning she woke up tangled in Rachel, how she fell off the bed trying to scramble away. Still, the fact that she backed away doesn’t erase the rest of that night, where she knew even in sleep that her arms were around Rachel and that Rachel relaxed into her embrace. 

“I…it’s fine, Rach. You were asleep and comfortable,” Quinn offers, clearing her throat awkwardly. “The point is that things are different now. Anyway, I slept fine last night so you don’t have to worry. I’m gonna go put my contacts in,” she rambles, adjusting her glasses on her face as she steps out into the hallway. 

As soon as the door is shut behind her, Rachel turns around and grabs a pillow from her bed, whacking Naomi on the head with it.

“Was that really necessary?” she huffs, sitting down on the edge of Naomi’s bed uninvited.

“Oww,” Naomi whines, swatting at Rachel’s arm.

“Seriously, Naomi. This is hard enough for both us without you saying stuff like that.”

Naomi rolls onto her back and finally blinks her eyes open, squinting up at Rachel with purple locks of hair sticking up in every direction on her head.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, meeting Rachel’s eyes, and she can tell that Naomi means it despite being half awake. 

“It’s okay,” Rachel sighs, nudging Naomi to scoot over so that she can lie down next to her. She relaxes her head against her pillow, reclining on top of the blankets as she turns to face Naomi lying right next to her. 

“It’s been awkward, hasn’t it?” Naomi asks softly, searching Rachel’s eyes to confirm her suspicions. 

“Very,” she admits, taking comfort in the sympathetic blue eyes looking back at her. 

“You two will be fine,” she murmurs. “Just give it time.”

“Do you really think so? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Rachel questions, voicing her fears aloud for the first time this weekend. She can’t ask Quinn these things. She _can’t_. She can’t look at Quinn and ask what happens if she doesn’t get past her feelings. She can’t tell Quinn that she’s worried they aren’t going to fully recover from this. 

“Do you love her?” Naomi asks, and Rachel’s eyes widen, rebuttal on the tip of her tongue. “Not like that. I mean as your friend. Do you love her enough to not run away from the awkwardness?”

“Of course I do,” she replies immediately, and Naomi smiles.

“Then you’ll be fine. If you care enough to fight the awkwardness head on, then you’ll make it through.”

Rachel is about to reply when the door clicks open and Quinn enters, fresh contacts in her eyes and glasses now in hand. She stands there awkwardly until Rachel lifts her head, sitting up from her close proximity to Naomi. 

“Am I interrupting?” Quinn asks, eyebrow arched and a smile on her lips. 

“My sleep? Yes,” Naomi jokes while finally sitting up in bed. “I smell coffee.”

“That’s because it’s done brewing,” Rachel responds, rolling her eyes, and Quinn laughs. 

“Oh, praise God,” Naomi moans, sliding out of bed towards the coffee pot.

“You’re an atheist,” Rachel answers in amusement.

“Irrelevant.” 

Naomi pours coffee into a mug for herself while Quinn laughs at the entire exchange. 

“Breakfast in thirty?” Rachel asks, moving over to her closet to grab her face wash and other toiletries. “Naomi, you’re welcome to join us if you want.” She looks to Quinn to make sure she’s okay with that, and Quinn nods, searching through her duffel for her make up bag. 

“Sounds good. I’ll be a functioning human by then,” Naomi agrees, taking another long sip of her coffee. 

** XXxxXX **

“So what do you two have planned for the day?” Naomi asks as Quinn finishes off her bagel.

They both look to each other and then Quinn shrugs, swallowing.

“We haven’t really talked about it. Did you have any ideas, Rach?”

Rachel takes a sip of her orange juice, trying to think if there was anything in particular that she wanted to do with Quinn today. 

“I don’t really know. A lot of the tourist stuff I still want to do is outside and I don’t know if I want to be in the cold for that long.” 

She looks to Quinn expectantly, waiting to hear if she had any ideas. 

“Don’t look at me. My only thought was the Met, but I having a feeling I need a whole day at that place. Multiple days, if possible. And I don’t want to make you wander around another museum. It just doesn’t feel like a museum sort of day.”

“Yeah, a museum doesn’t sound too appealing right now,” Rachel agrees. “I just want to do something fun, and maybe kind of, I don’t know…adventurous?” she says tentatively and Naomi laughs. “It’s just that this is such a crazy city with so many different things to experience. The closest I’ve really come to any of that was the night I went to that live show with you,” Rachel says, looking to Naomi. She doesn’t mention it also being the night she met Luke. 

“Well, I don’t know if you guys would be interested, but I have a pretty… _adventurous_ thing that I’m doing in a couple hours. Maybe adventurous is the wrong word. More like ridiculous in the best way possible.” 

Quinn lifts her eyebrow, questioning, and Rachel thinks back in an attempt to remember if Naomi mentioned this before.

“What are you talking about?” she asks when she can’t recall anything.

“Okay, so there’s a guy in one of my classes that had this idea for a sort of performance art project. He recruited several people to help him out with it, but a few of them dropped out recently because of schedule issues so I agreed a couple days ago to help him.”

“What do you mean by _sort of_ performance art?” Rachel questions, eyebrows knitting together.

“His main program at the school is film, but he’s also really into modern art and big installations and all that kind of stuff. He got this idea like a month ago that his advisor approved. Basically the concept is the artist becoming the canvas, or something along those lines. He’s setting up a room in this small warehouse a couple blocks down and covering every wall and the floor with white sheets and paper. Everything in the room is going to be white, and the twelve or so people that he wants to participate will also be wearing white clothes. There will be cans of paint everywhere and all of us have free reign. Any surface we want to use to create, including each other. He’s going to be filming all of it, and his friend in the photography program is going to be taking pictures of it too for one of his own assignments.”

Naomi has a huge grin on her face and Quinn smiles widely too once she has a better mental image of the project. Rachel just looks really confused. 

“So you’re all just going to walk around and paint stuff?”

“Not quite,” Naomi laughs.

“It sounds like it’s meant to be a lot more dynamic than that,” Quinn answers, intrigued by the concept.

“It’s basically a cool artsy excuse for us to throw paint at each other and use each other as canvases to create something alive and exploding with color,” Naomi explains.

“A bunch of artists having a glorified paint war that someone’s going to film.”

“Pretty much,” she agrees, laughing. 

“And how do we fit into this?” Rachel asks, now that she’s starting to understand the concept of the project.

“Michael was still looking for people, last time I heard. He’s gonna do the project no matter what, but I think his preference was to have twelve people. You two could do it with us if you want to. I totally understand if you want to hang out on your own today though.”

Quinn looks over to Rachel, trying to gauge her reaction to all of this. It might be nice to do something for a few hours where there are other people around. Maybe that will help them to gain their footing and alleviate the awkwardness a little more. But at the same time, she doesn’t want to agree to something that Rachel has no interest in doing. 

“Just to be clear- this means I’m going to be coming home covered in paint. Correct?” Rachel seeks clarification, and Quinn stifles a giggle at how adorable Rachel looks as she internally debates the pros and cons of this plan.

“Yes. Washable paint that will come off your skin and your hair just fine,” Naomi assures, smiling as she watches Rachel contemplate it. 

“I’m in,” Rachel states after a moment. “As long as Quinn wants to, of course.”

“I think it sounds like a lot of fun,” Quinn agrees. “And maybe even a bit of the _adventure_ that you’re looking for, Rach,” she adds, nudging Rachel with her elbow and scrunching her nose.

Rachel laughs and then turns to Naomi, who looks like she can’t believe they actually agreed to this.

“So when and where do we meet for this thing?”

** XXxxXX **

Michael, it turns out, is a really cool guy who thanks them for helping out and shows them a room where they can change into the white shirts and grey shorts that they brought. None of them had actual white shorts, and Michael said that it didn’t matter as long as they were a light neutral color. 

A few minutes later, they’re standing in a large room that’s been completely covered with white sheets, huge crumpled pieces of white paper, and scattered empty canvases placed at every odd angle. The only thing that stands out against the white is the paint cans and containers that are lined all over the place, brimming with all sorts of bright, pre-mixed hues.

Naomi is practically bouncing she’s so excited.

“So do we get any brushes or anything?” Naomi asks, taking in the scene.

“What do you think?” Michael asks, grinning.

That would be a no, then. 

There are several other people in similar attire and Rachel shyly introduces herself, telling each of them that she’s not actually an artist. 

To which Naomi says, “Yes you are. But your art is through performance, which is why it’s really cool that you’re doing this with us.”

“I guess that makes me the non-artist then,” Quinn jokes, rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly as everyone turns to look at her. “I’m that random English student who doesn’t even live here.”

A few people laugh and Naomi rolls her eyes, introducing her to the other students.

“This is Quinn. She’s one of those mastermind ivy-league kids,” Naomi teases, winking at Quinn. “She may not think she’s an artist, but I have a feeling she’s going to surprise us today.” 

A few people in the group smile and Quinn ducks her head shyly, blushing. Everyone here seems genuinely nice, and she can already tell that this is going to be so much fun. 

“Alright everyone, listen up!” Michael calls out, gathering everyone around to get their attention. “We’re going to get started here in just a second. So here’s the deal. These are my only rules. First, don’t look directly at the cameras. Don’t worry about us. You guys just focus on doing your thing and we’ll focus on capturing it. Second, try not to isolate yourselves too much. Be interactive with the people around you. Use each other to create. Use each other as canvases. Use each other to create something in this room around you. And lastly, don’t take yourselves too seriously. Be wild! Be ridiculous! Have fun with this.”

A few people clap and cheer and then someone starts playing music loudly from a partitioned area that’s protected from the paint soon to be flying everywhere. Quinn recognizes the song immediately and then looks to Rachel, who is squinting and looks like she’s trying to place the song.

“You’ve played me this before,” Rachel notes, closing her eyes and trying to recall the right name. “It’s…it’s the group named after that one galaxy or something, isn’t it?”

Quinn nods, impressed that she remembered that much. “M83,” she reminds her as the electronic beats and sounds weave together, echoing across the warehouse. “You ready for this?”

“You mean am I ready to throw a bunch of paint at you? Absolutely,” Rachel grins, her competitiveness flaring up even though this is technically a group activity with no winner. 

“Okay, here we go!” Michael calls out, and they both scramble towards the middle of the room. “Three…two…one…we’re rolling!” 

Some of the people take their time while others rush to grab certain colors. Naomi is already kneeling down next to some kind of teal mixture and she dips her hand straight into it, turning towards Rachel with a fierce grin.

Rachel squeals and shuffles over, grabbing a small cup of neon purple paint as she goes. Naomi runs over to her, unforgiving, and swipes two thick lines across Rachel’s face, one below each of her eyes along her cheeks. Rachel isn’t even able to lift up her own paint before Naomi is gone, and she turns to Quinn, mouth hanging open. 

Quinn starts laughing loudly at how appalled she looks until Rachel steps forward, drizzling cold purple paint down Quinn’s back straight from the cup.

“What are you laughing at, Fabray?” Rachel questions, gleam in her eye, before darting away. Quinn can feel the watery paint seeping through her t-shirt and dripping down her back, making goose bumps break out across her neck and arms. 

She looks up to try to spot where Rachel ran off to, and sees three people pouring paint over their feet before they start dancing and kicking their legs around. Thick technicolor footprints make their mark across the stark white, and she watches two of the people start doing some kind of advanced modern dance together. She realizes that their mode of art is dance, and that they’re probably in the dance school here. They dip their hands in paint too and it splatters across their bodies as they move gracefully around each other.

Quinn finally gets distracted from the dancers long enough to notice Rachel tracing colorful lines with her fingers against one of the sheets on the wall, and she smiles at how meticulous Rachel is being with the marks she makes. But then she sees Naomi run up to her and start pressing her hands, dripping in paint, against Rachel’s back. She hears Rachel shriek about how cold it is over the loud music and then Naomi speaks something, likely telling her to be still for second. Quinn realizes after a moment that Naomi is actually using her handprints to form a musical note against Rachel’s back. Beautiful mixed hues made of handprints and the streak of Naomi’s palms form together to create the clear musical symbol on Rachel. 

A couple of minutes later, Quinn walks up to Rachel, who is laughing and twirling around in a puddle of paint, leaving footprints everywhere. Quinn thinks it would be impossible for her to look any more adorable than she looks right now. 

“Having fun?” she asks with a laugh, quirking her eyebrow. Rachel looks up from the colorful marks that she’s making on the ground and smiles widely.

“I feel like I’m five years old, but this is amazing!” Rachel exclaims, twirling around again to the beat of the music. 

“I’m glad,” Quinn tells her softly, close enough that the music won’t drown out her words. Rachel scrunches her eyebrows and Quinn can tell that she knows there’s more to it than that. “I just haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. Not around me, at least. I’m glad you’re having so much fun.”

Rachel doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she smiles widely and reaches for Quinn’s arm, tracing a colorful star against her bicep. She shivers as the cool fingertips trace across her, and then Rachel steps back, surveying her work. 

Quinn knows that it’s washable paint. She knows that the star will be gone in a couple of hours. But for now it’s there, bright and colorful, bold and one hundred percent Rachel Berry. 

“Stars are kind of my thing,” Rachel says, as if she still needs to make it clear after all this time. Quinn laughs and she wants to say that she knows, but instead she steps forward and wraps her arms around her. Rachel reciprocates the hug without pause, and Quinn feels paint-covered hands pressing against her shoulder blades. 

“I was talking to Naomi this morning about something,” Rachel speaks, voice warm against her ear.

“Yeah?” Quinn answers into her shoulder, not really sure where Rachel is going with this.

Rachel is quiet for a moment, and then Quinn feels the grip around her back tighten. It’s a subtle shift, but she knows it’s there.

“You know I love you, right?” Rachel says gently, voice uncertain, and Quinn feels her breath catch in her lungs. “With everything that’s happened and how awkward it’s been, you…you know I still love you, don’t you?”

Quinn lets her eyes slip shut and inhales the soft scent of Rachel’s hair, nodding against her shoulder. 

“I know,” she whispers, and she feels Rachel exhale in relief. “I know you do, Rach.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers back, and Quinn immediately knows that this about more than just this moment, more than this hug. Rachel is here to stay, and she isn’t going to give up on them. 

Quinn trembles slightly in place even as Rachel grounds her, and she realizes just how much that this deeply rooted fear has been lingering. It’s not until Rachel says it that she realizes how much she’s been afraid of exactly this, how much a part of her has been expecting Rachel to run away from everything. Hell, she wouldn’t even have to run. Most of the time they exist with an eighty mile distance between them. All Rachel would have to do is ignore her calls and refuse to visit, and that could be the end for them. It’s a terrifying thought to realize how easily this relationship could be shattered after being built up with such fragility for so long. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rachel murmurs again, somehow aware that Quinn needs her to repeat the words aloud. 

“I love you too,” Quinn answers tremulously, and Rachel doesn’t even flinch. 

There are two types of love in question here. 

And Rachel knows which one Quinn is talking about in this moment. 

She knows that this isn’t about Quinn’s feeling for her.

This is about their friendship, above all else. 


	40. Chapter 40

"Quinn, I'm heading back to the room. I'll leave the door unlocked for you, okay?" she hears Rachel call out over the sound of the shower spray, and she blinks against the water droplets coating her eyelashes.

Steam fills the stall in billowing clouds and she looks down to her feet, watching as diluted colors swirl down the drain beneath her feet.

"Sounds good! I'll be done soon, Rach. I just want to make sure I got all the paint off my neck," she answers from behind the curtain, scrubbing the loofah against her skin once again.

"Take your time," Rachel replies, and then a moment later she hears the door to the women's bathroom click shut. She exhales in relief, resting her forehead against the cool tile as hot rivulets of water run down her spine.

Something about knowing that Rachel was one stall over, completely naked and showering, has been shattering her focus and keeping her on edge for the past several minutes. It's not like they could even see each other, but it didn't matter. The thought alone was enough to drive her insane

She clenches her eyes shut, wet hair clinging to her skin as she breathes out steadily and works to clear her mind.

"Get a grip, Q," she whispers to herself, voice dissipating into the steam as she's left alone in the dorm bathroom.

Naomi left a couple minutes before Rachel did, and now it's blissfully silent with the exception of the steady spray of water cascading around her.

She wonders if this is what teenaged boys feel like all the time, to be ridiculously turned on just by the mere thought of something. The mental image taking root and bombarding all senses. Flashes of naturally tan skin and soft wet curves streaked with hues of paint.

But just as soon as the picture takes root, a voice lingers too-

_You know I love you, right?_

It's platonic, with no lingering romantic undertones. A finality, resolute.

It's as effective as switching the shower control to freezing cold.

The fantasy evaporates, reality presses down, and she digs her fingertips into the water-streaked tile. Rachel is her best friend, and that's it. End of story. She has to focus on that, to be thankful that Rachel is as determined as she is to keep their friendship intact. The situation could be so much worse, and yet she can't be completely content with how things have worked out. Not when she still has all of these stupid feelings that refuse to go away.

Rachel loves her. Rachel wants to preserve their friendship. That's great.

But where does that leave her?

The answer continues to evade her, and so she does the only thing she can do-

She pushes the question away.

The answer will reveal itself in time, for better or for worse.

**XXxxXX**

Rachel is already dressed and toweling her hair dry when she enters the room, setting her shower stuff down by her duffel bag.

"Did I get all the purple paint off my neck?" Quinn questions, tugging the collar of her robe down enough for her to see.

"Yep, you're all clear," Rachel answers, inspecting the spot for her. "Was that the paint that I poured on you at the beginning?"

"Ugh, yes. It had the most time to dry and it was like right down the middle of my spine so it was really hard to clean off," Quinn huffs, rolling her eyes.

Rachel smiles sheepishly but shrugs her shoulder, making Naomi laugh.

"Clearly she feels really guilty about it," Naomi remarks, and Rachel smirks.

"I was merely following the guidelines of the project," she answers evenly, fighting off laughter.

"Uh huh," Quinn concedes, smiling even as she rolls her eyes. She reaches into her bag for a pair of sweats, pulling them on underneath her robe.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure my hair is a tad technicolor now," Naomi chimes in, inspecting her hair in the mirror. Damp purple streaks are sticking up in every direction, not yet gelled and styled, and Quinn can see the faint remnants of other colors. "I kind of like the effect though."

"How much longer do you think you'll keep the purple?" Rachel asks, running a comb through damp brunette tangles.

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking about switching it up over break, but I haven't decided what I want to do yet."

Quinn turns to face the wall, quickly shrugging off her robe and replacing it with a navy blue Yale t-shirt.

"Hey Rach, do you have a spare hair tie? The one I had has paint on it and I didn't bring any extras."

She runs her fingertips through the blonde strands, feelings a few drops of water soak through the neck of her t-shirt.

"Yeah, there should be some in my top desk drawer over there," Rachel motions toward her desk, looking at Quinn over her shoulder as she faces away from the mirror.

Quinn follows her direction, reaching around Rachel's chair to slide the drawer open. Highlighters and pens are lined neatly inside, accompanied by several post its and an array of other supplies. She spots a few hair ties nestled in the corner, but something else catches her eye too.

At the top of a large pile of notecards is a scrawled note that reads, " _Second week of school. Made fun of my outfit and called me hideous._ "

She feels all of the muscles in her body tense, torn between disbelief and confusion. The pile is large, and she reaches forward with a shaky hand to see the index card that lies beneath it.

_Left a comment on my youtube video telling me that I need to get sterilized._

Her pulse thunders through her veins and her vision starts to blur as she pushes away the card to see the next in a flurry to keep reading.

_Called me a tranny and said not to bother because no one will ever be attracted to me._

By the time she reaches the fifth card, it's clear that the entire stack contains similar annotations, an entire pile of every way that she ever wronged Rachel.

"Did you find one?" Rachel questions casually, glancing over her shoulder. When Quinn doesn't answer, she turns around fully and is met with tear-streaked hazel. "Quinn, what-"

She doesn't say anything,  _can't_  find the words to say anything, so instead holds up the stack of cards. She watches as Rachel's expression freezes before she surges forward.

"Quinn, that's not what you think it is," she says tremulously, reaching for the stack in Quinn's clenched grip.

"Really? It's not a pile of notecards with every way that I've ever hurt you written down?" Quinn shouts, voice wavering as her vision blurs even more.

Naomi glances awkwardly between the two of them, completely confused at the sudden tension in the room.

"It is. But it's-"

"Shut up!" Quinn interjects loudly, tears leaking out and beginning to trace down her cheeks. "Just shut up! What the hell, Rachel? What kind of game are you playing at?" she yells, hating how much her voice cracks. "You've been telling me since I got here that I'm your best friend and that you love me. So what the  _fuck_  is this?"

Rachel's mouth is hanging open slightly, trying to form words, and she feels like her chest is caving in.

"I…I'll be…somewhere not here," Naomi mumbles, cutting into the silence as she grabs her phone and keys, quickly scurrying out of the room.

Once the door clicks shut behind her, the only sound that punctuates the silence is the shallow breaths that Quinn continues to force into her lungs. Rachel's mouth moves silently for several seconds before she finally forms words.

"It's for a school assignment," Rachel states, voice trembling as she reaches for the stack of cards again. Her fingertips brush against Quinn's clenched grip and she recoils immediately.

" _Don't_ ," Quinn hisses, suddenly feeling trapped in the confines of this small dorm room. "Don't lie to me. You really expect me to believe that this is for  _school_?"

"It is, Quinn. It  _is_  for school," Rachel assures, voice delicate in a way that makes Quinn hesitate. "It's for my playwriting class. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you about it."

None of it makes any sense. She can't think of a single way that a pile of notecards documenting her wrongdoings could be for a class assignment. Yet Rachel looks so open right now, vulnerable and eyes begging her to understand.

"Explain," Quinn demands through clenched teeth, dropping the pile of cards to the desk surface. "Please," she adds, slightly more gentle, when she sees the fear in Rachel's eyes. She never wants to be the cause of fear in Rachel Berry's eyes again. That lost its appeal long ago, and now it just makes her chest constrict painfully.

"Way earlier in the semester, I was told that I had to write a play," Rachel begins, fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt as she ducks her head down. "I couldn't think of a story. My professor said that everyone has a story worth telling. I realized that you…you're my story worth telling, Quinn," she continues softly, glancing up into confused hazel eyes. "Our friendship. The story of our journey. If you go to the bottom of the stack, there are several cards in green ink with all the good things that have happened between us too."

"And the cards are…?" Quinn trails off, trying to make sense of Rachel's explanation.

"They were just a way for me to organize my thoughts. Writing isn't exactly my strong suit."

Rachel meets her gaze fully this time, and she stares back, trying to find the purpose in this. She knows that something more is going on here, something that Rachel has yet to say. Quinn reaches for a few of the cards again, flipping through them and reading each notation in painful clarity. She can feel Rachel's eyes on her, can sense the tension in her posture and the desire for Quinn to stop reading.

"I…I don't understand," Quinn whispers, looking up tearfully as she finishes looking through the small pile in her hand. "Why would you want to bring all of this back again? We've moved on. Why are you fixating on the past?"

Rachel wipes at the corner of her eye with her palm, then shifts her arms to wrap around herself protectively. She looks so incredibly nervous, and Quinn can't figure out why.

"Have we really moved on, Quinn?" she murmurs, and Quinn inhales sharply. "Because I feel like all we've done is ignore it for a really long time."

Quinn looks down to the carpet, squeezing her eyes shut as Rachel's words sink into her head.

"I have apologized… _so_  many times, Rachel. What else can I do?" Quinn questions helplessly, resigned. "If I could go back in time and stop myself from hurting you, I would. But I  _can't_ , Rach. So what do you  _want_  from me?"

Rachel doesn't say anything at first, but a moment later she feels a warm hand hesitantly grasp her own, guiding her across the small room. She sinks down against the mattress, bare feet still resting against the carpet, and Quinn follows her. They sit together at the edge of Rachel's bed, and Rachel slowly releases the grip on her hand, clasping her hands together in her lap instead.

"I just want to understand," Rachel finally answers, breaking the silence. "I want to stop trying to figure this out on my own. I don't think I can truly move on until we actually  _talk_  about it. And we never do. We never talk about it, Quinn. What did you always say the Fabray way was? Something about if you don't talk about it, it doesn't exist. But it  _does_  exist, Quinn. It  _happened_."

"What, you think I've  _forgotten_  or something?" Quinn retorts angrily, clutching at the comforter on the bed.

"No, I don't think you've forgotten," Rachel replies, far more gentle and patient than she deserves. "But you act like you have. I chose this for my assignment because I was sick of ignoring it. I wanted to try to make sense of our past. At the time, you hadn't even come out to me yet. I still had no idea about your motivations for why you treated me the way you did. Even now that I have a better picture of what was going on, I still don't fully understand."

"What do you want me to say, Rachel?" she sighs, letting her eyes slip shut.

"Anything. I just want you to  _talk_  about it with me."

Quinn debates internally for several moments, trying to figure out where she would even begin. The thought of talking about all of this with Rachel isn't just nerve-wracking. It's overwhelming. So much transpired between them that she doesn't even know where to begin. She leans backwards, letting her back sink into Rachel's mattress and sliding up so that only her feet dangle off the edge. Once she's settled, she blinks up at the ceiling, observing the dots on the drywall as she forces her mind to recall memories from the beginning of high school.

She can feel Rachel's eyes on her, head turned as she looks down to where Quinn is stretched out on her bed. But she ignores her gaze, keeping her eyes focused on the ceiling.

"I don't know how to talk to you about this, Rachel," she whispers, voice betraying her fear. "I don't talk about it because I don't know  _how_. You want explanations, but no amount of talking is ever going to justify what I did. You'll never be satisfied with my reasons."

Rachel's hand grazes across the surface of the bed, bumping against her ankle accidentally when she shifts. Suffocating silence presses between them before Rachel formulates the words she wants to say.

"This isn't about you justifying yourself, Quinn. All I want is to know some of what you were thinking and your reasons for your actions, even if they're not good ones."

Quinn listens to her, debating whether or not to be honest about her fears right now. She realizes that she needs to, though. She needs Rachel to understand why she's so reluctant.

"I don't want you to hate me," she breathes, barely above a whisper, and slams her eyes shut once the admission escapes her lips.

"I won't hate you for explaining," Rachel says tenderly, and she wonders if Rachel honestly means that. "I'm still here, aren't I? After everything we've been through. Explaining won't make me hate you, Quinn. It will just help me to understand so that I can be at peace with all of this."

There seems to be validity to that, and a truth that she had never quite considered. Rachel is still in her life, despite everything. Anything that might make Rachel hate her has already happened. All they're doing now is attempting to understand their past better. That perspective puts her more at ease about her fear, even though she's still exceptionally nervous.

She pauses, inhaling a slow breath before asking, "Did I ever tell you about the first time I heard you sing?"

" _Please_  don't change the topic, Quinn." Her voice is pleading, borderline begging, and it makes her stomach twist.

"I'm not changing the topic," she assures, eyes still locked upwards. "I'm starting from the beginning."

"Oh." Rachel pauses for a moment before softly answering, "No, you've never told me. I assumed it was when you saw glee club performing before you joined."

"It wasn't. It was way before that. Freshman year, actually." She hears Rachel's breath hitch slightly in surprise, and continues. "I went to cut through the auditorium after school. There's a short-cut through the side exit that gets you to the football field faster, and I was on my way to practice. It was back when coach was still doing underclassmen tryouts for varsity. Anyway, I walked into the auditorium and you were there on the stage with someone accompanying you on piano. You were singing a Celine Dion song."

"You knew it was a Celine song?" Rachel interjects, teasing lilt to her voice.

"Do you want me to talk or not?" she replies defensively, cheeks blushing.

She feels Rachel shift at the end of her bed next to her feet before she leans back as well, scooting up until they're laying side by side, a few inches between their shoulders. The warmth of Rachel's presence radiates between them even though they aren't quite touching, and Quinn suppresses a smile.

"Sorry. So you walked in on me singing Celine. Continue," she murmurs, and the warmth of her voice relaxes some of the tension in her body. She lets her head sink back into the pillow more, eyes slipping shut as she recalls the memory.

"You sounded…well, you know how you sound singing Celine. I just stood there and listened to you. I had no idea who you were, but I got jealous pretty quickly. I thought that no one should be so naturally gifted at something. You made it look so effortless. You still do."

The pillow dips next to her as Rachel turns her head sideways, eyeing her with curiosity. She can't stand to meet Rachel's eyes right now, not if Rachel wants her to keep talking, so she lets her eyes slip shut again.

"That's ridiculous. You already had boys fawning over you, and were well on your way to extreme popularity. You were gorgeous and girls already wanted to be you. How could you possibly have been jealous of me just because I could sing?"

"Because I was petty. And believe it or not, very insecure." She hears Rachel scoff and tries not to let Rachel's disbelief affect her. "I've always been insecure, Rach. But especially back then. Anything that another girl had that I didn't, whether it was beauty or talent, made me question whether or not I was good enough."

"Good enough for who?"

She pauses for a moment, thinking about the simple question. A certain element of it was her parents, but really it was more than that. There was always a need to prove her self-worth, regardless of who it was.

"Everyone."

"Quinn…" The way that Rachel says her name, with such warmth and sympathy, makes her heart clench. It makes the suppressed tears threaten to resurface.

This is why she doesn't like to talk about this stuff.

"I don't think you realize how insecure I've always been."

"What did you even have to be insecure about?" Rachel doesn't ask it maliciously. She genuinely doesn't understand. The heartfelt way that she asks makes it that much more difficult to answer.

A few tears slip down her cheeks even though her eyes are shut, and she reaches up hastily to wipe them away. She inhales a slow breath through her nose, exhaling raggedly as she attempts to collect herself.

"Do you know that feeling of just…wanting to feel wanted? It started as that. And then it kind of shifted into questioning the  _reasons_  that people wanted me. I wanted people to like all of me, not just the parts that were convenient to like. And so the more popular I got, the worse the insecurity got. Because there were just more people who only liked parts of me."

Rachel's hand shifts down to rest on the comforter in the space between them, and she can feel her pinky brush against the side of her hand. It's the most miniscule contact, but somehow it's comforting.

"I've never even thought of it that way," Rachel remarks in wonderment. "That people liking you for your appearance or your popularity would make you feel  _worse_."

"Yeah, well…"

"So how does this connect to the bullying? I'm assuming there's a reason you started with the story of hearing me sing."

There is a reason. She had seen Rachel at school a few times before that, just in passing, but that was the first time she ever paid her any attention. Her first interaction with Rachel, though one-sided, began with a foundation of jealousy and insecurity. That lingered throughout freshman year, even before she really started to develop feelings for her.

"My insecurity was where the negative behavior started," she explains. "I saw how confident you were, how little you cared about the opinions of others, and I wanted to squash that confidence in you. Of course, I never truly targeted you until I started… _feeling_  things for you. But I think that's what made it easier for me to make you a target, because I already had that established negativity towards you."

"You disliked me because I was confident in myself?" Rachel questions, sounding very confused.

"In the beginning, yes. That was the main reason. Seeing you and how you carried yourself brought out my own insecurities more somehow."

Rachel lets out a short laugh next to her abruptly, and the instinct to put her guard up and retreat rushes forward.

Until Rachel says, "I wasn't half as confident as you thought I was, Quinn. I mean, I knew I was a good singer. But most of the time I was putting on a brave face so no one would see how desperately I wanted to fit in."

Quinn turns her head on the pillow towards her, looking to meet her eyes finally. Rachel shifts too in response, and kind brown eyes stare back at her.

"Really?" Quinn murmurs, searching her eyes for the honesty in her words.

"Really," Rachel nods against the pillow, small smile on her face. "It's so weird to hear you talk about being jealous of  _me_  back then. You have no idea how much I wanted to be you."

She rolls her eyes, aware of the complete irony in that, and Rachel's smile widens.

"So that was pretty much freshman year. Like you know already, we really didn't interact much that year. But that's kind of where my attitude towards you first developed."

Rachel holds her gaze as a comfortable silence settles between them, and she has to deflect after a moment. She fights off a blush, turning her head to stare back up at the ceiling again.

"What?" Rachel laughs, poking her in the ribs.

"Nothing," she mumbles, cheeks turning pink.

"Quinn…" She can see Rachel's ridiculous pout even in her peripheral vision.

"So, speaking of you being unbearably cute and me not knowing what to do about it, sophomore year…" she finally says, clearing her throat.

Rachel makes some unintelligible noise next to her, and she glances over to see her blushing too.

"Sorry," Quinn mumbles. "You asked. And it was a rather fitting segue."

Rachel laughs lightly, even as her blush deepens and she turns to look up at the ceiling again.

"Sophomore year," she agrees, settling back into her pillow. "You mentioned last night that you started…that it started over the summer beforehand."

"Yeah. I don't…Rach, this is super awkward. You want me to talk about the bullying stuff, so that's what I'm going to focus on. Obviously the two are connected, but…"

She folds her hands across her stomach to stop herself from fidgeting and takes a deep breath.

"No, I understand. You can explain your…feelings when necessary. I'm mainly just concerned with how they affected your behavior towards me."

Quinn bites on her lip, trying to think of the best way to explain this to Rachel. When several seconds of silence pass, Rachel turns her head to look at her profile.

"I kind of have a general idea, Quinn," she reminds gently. "I just want to hear it from you, about where your head was at."

She nods, forcing herself to ignore her nervous energy and talk.

"You were everything that I knew I shouldn't want. And that  _scared_  me, Rachel."

The eyes that were observing her a moment ago are turned away now, back to the ceiling, and she's grateful for it. She doesn't know if she could say this with Rachel watching her like that.

"Most of the time it came across as anger. You probably thought I was constantly angry with you. But really, the anger was just barely masking the fear. I did those things and said those things because I was scared, not because I was angry. I was angry at myself, maybe, that I couldn't get past how I felt. But most of the anger that you saw from me wasn't really anger. It was fear and barely hidden insecurity."

Rachel is quiet, thinking over her words, and she's glad that Rachel isn't rushing to talk. She's taking the time to absorb everything that Quinn is saying before she answers.

"But why even confront me?" she asks after a moment. "I've always gotten the impression that you prefer to ignore the things you'd rather not deal with. So if I caused that fear, then why didn't you just avoid me at all costs?"

It's a valid question, and she smiles wryly at how well Rachel really knows her.

"I tried that, Rach. For the first month or so of school. But then you started expressing interest in my _boyfriend_ , and I couldn't ignore you anymore. I had to face you head on if I wanted to preserve my status and keep my secret. I couldn't let Finn run off and do who knows what in glee club with you, so I joined. Confrontation was kind of inevitable from there."

"I just never knew that it wasn't really about Finn," Rachel concludes, and then laughs suddenly.

"What?" she questions, self-conscious. It isn't easy to talk about this stuff, and Rachel's random outbursts of laughter really don't help matters.

"I'm sorry. It's just…you and Finn," Rachel giggles, making Quinn smile and roll her eyes. "Actually, I take that back. You and any  _boyfriend_."

"Hey!" Quinn exclaims, pouting even as she tries not to laugh.

"All those poor boys. They never stood a chance in the long run, did they?"

"Sam might have. If I really wanted to stay in the closet."

"Why's that?" Rachel asks, propping her head up on her hand as she rests her elbow on the bed, turning to look down at Quinn.

"Because he has really soft lips and he kisses like a girl."

"Oh my  _god_!" Rachel yells, bursting with laughter. "Quinn, that's so bad!"

"What, it's  _true_!" Quinn defends, laughing too.

"And Santana dated him too during all the Brittany drama! Oh my god, it all makes sense! Poor Sam," Rachel laments, and Quinn nearly chokes.

"Holy shit, I never even thought of that."

"Don't ever tell him, okay? He's a sweet guy. He doesn't need to know," Rachel says, still giggling a little.

Quinn smiles, thankful that the conversation isn't quite so heavy anymore. This is what she likes best, why she was looking forward to spending the weekend with Rachel. It's these moments, where they laugh and enjoy each other's company without all of the complicated stuff intervening.

"Hey, Rach?"

Quinn looks up at her, meeting warm brown eyes alight with happiness.

"What?"

"Can we not go through all of that high school stuff today?" Rachel frowns, and she hastens to clarify. "I like this, laughing with you and just enjoying being around you. We'll be home for winter break before you know it and we'll have lots of time to talk about it in person. But can I just be with you today without all of the complicated stuff? Please?"

Rachel's eyes soften, and she sees the corners of her lips quirk up in a smile.

"All I wanted was for you to be willing to talk, Quinn. We don't have to talk about it all at once. Knowing that I can ask you about it when I want to is enough. Then it doesn't feel so hidden away."

Quinn exhales in relief, finally sitting up from Rachel's bed to check the time on the clock.

"We should call Naomi."

"Oh crap," Rachel mutters, scrambling off the bed to find her phone and call her roommate who was kind enough to flee the scene earlier.

Quinn watches as Rachel hastily dials the phone, greeting Naomi after a few rings.

"Hey, it's me. Sorry about that. We're good now if you want to come back to the room."

Rachel is quiet for several seconds while Naomi talks on the other line, and then she laughs loudly.

"Okay, I'll let her know. We may come join you in a couple minutes…okay…bye."

She looks to Rachel in confusion, who laughs and makes her way back over to the bed.

"Naomi wandered to different TV lounges because she forgot to grab her keycard so she couldn't leave the building. Apparently she found a group of girls on the floor above us that are having a  _Gilmore Girls_  marathon."

Quinn stares blankly at her for a few seconds before she makes the connection.

"They're watching the episodes where Rory is at Yale, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Rachel laughs, setting her phone back down on her nightstand. "Naomi says you need to go up there and verify that the buildings are as posh as the show makes it seem. She refuses to believe it otherwise."

"I'm fine with hanging in the TV lounge for a little while. I don't really feel like leaving the dorm again right now anyway."

She gets up from the bed, sliding on her flip flops while Rachel grabs her keys and her phone.

"But I want to hear more about this play you're writing about us. I'm still super confused about that," Quinn adds, stepping into the hallway with her.

"I will. I promise," Rachel assures. She leads the way over to the stairwell, holding the door open for Quinn as she heads to the floor above them.

"There's also a place that I'd really like to go with you tonight," she says, making Rachel stop on the step above and turn to look at her.

"In the city?" Rachel asks, surprised.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"Can I keep it a surprise?" She looks up into Rachel's eyes, watching her nod.

"I suppose. But you know I'll be wondering about it for the rest of the afternoon now."

"I'm okay with that," Quinn grins, continuing up the stairs.

**XXxxXX**

"Okay, seriously, where are you taking me?" Rachel asks once they're on the subway train.

She told Rachel to dress warm, and so she's bundled up in her pea coat, with a knit hat atop her head and a scarf to match.

"You'll see," Quinn smiles. "We'll be there in a few minutes."

"I hope it's worth it because it's cold out tonight," Rachel pouts, and Quinn can tell this is less about the weather and more that Rachel still hasn't figured out what they're doing.

The subway train screeches to a halt and Rachel looks to her, silently asking if this is where they get off.

"Not yet," Quinn states, adjusting her grip on the metal handlebar next to her. Rachel bounces on her feet impatiently and the train takes off again.

The next time the train stops, Quinn nods and Rachel smiles excitedly.

"Finally!"

"Come on, you dork," she laughs, leading Rachel off the train and towards the escalators.

"We're at Rockefeller Center," Rachel notes when she sees the sign.

"We are."

Quinn bites her lip between her teeth, shy excitement beginning to show. She really hopes that Rachel enjoys this and doesn't think it's lame, because it's always been something that she's wanted to do.

"Why are we here?" Rachel questions, stepping onto the escalator.

It isn't until they near the top that Quinn looks over and finally explains.

"So I've always wanted to come here at this time of year. I never thought I'd actually get the chance, but now here I am. I hope you don't think it's lame. It's okay if you do though," Quinn adds, lightly grasping her hand once they reach the crowd on the street.

"What-"

"And I know you're Jewish, but I thought you might still enjoy seeing it with me, so…"

Quinn lets her sentence trail off and looks across the street to where the larger crowd is gathered. Set against the city landscape is a massive lit structure, decorated in bright twinkling lights.

"Oh my god, it's the Christmas tree!" Rachel squeals, gripping Quinn's hand tighter as she moves through the crowd to cross the street. "I can't believe I didn't make the connection until now!"

"I realized today when we were walking back from the warehouse that all the holiday decorations are up in the city now because it's after Thanksgiving. This is the last time I'll be in the city before we go home to Lima, so I figured this was my chance to see it."

Rachel looks over, smiling brightly, and she knows she made the right decision in surprising Rachel with this. The crowd isn't that dense, just a lot of people gathered in the plaza, and they weave their way through to get closer to where the massive Christmas tree stands.

"It looks just like the movies," Rachel says in awe, tilting her head back to look up at the top.

"It really does," she agrees. Quinn gazes up at the eighty foot tall Christmas tree, watching the colorful lights twinkle against the city backdrop.

Rachel turns her head, meeting her eyes and smiling softly before looking back up again.

"Thank you for bringing me here, Quinn," she murmurs, squeezing her hand. "It isn't lame at all. It's kind of magic."

Quinn smiles widely, warmth spreading through her entire body even as the chilly air sweeps across her. She looks down to the right, where a bunch of couples and families are playing around on the ice skating rink. It's such a picturesque, almost idyllic, view of New York City that she can hardly believe she's a part of it right now.

"Whoever thought you and I would end up here? At Rockefeller Center during the holiday season," she marvels, meeting Rachel's eyes.

"There's a lot of places I never thought we'd end up," Rachel replies, smiling. "Both literally and figuratively. It is kind of amazing, though."

A comfortable silence passes between them as they both take the time to absorb the view and the atmosphere. Laugher and friendly chatter surrounds them, and she can hear some Christmas music in the distance.

"So tell me about this play."

Rachel looks over at her before turning back towards the tree.

"Well, it's about you and me. I've changed our names in the story, but our story is all real. It starts in sophomore year and you progressively learn about what we were each struggling with, and how that translated into our interactions. Everything from your struggles with your sexuality to my struggles with desperately wanting to fit in. And how our paths were always sort of linked throughout high school."

Quinn listens with interest, losing focus on the holiday decorations as she takes in Rachel's explanation.

"What made you want to write this?" she asks curiously, turning to meet Rachel's eyes.

"I wanted to understand. I wanted to make sense of our relationship in high school and try to see things from your perspective back then. It's been my way of trying to work through everything that happened, good and bad."

"You're…the class isn't going to read it, are they?" She hadn't even considered the possibility until now, but it makes her nervous. This story isn't just some fictional drama piece. It sounds like it's a very personal look at their lives.

"No, just my professor. And maybe a friend of mine that's going to proofread it before I turn in the final copy."

Quinn nods, more at ease now that she knows it will be kept private for the most part.

"Do you think maybe I could read it when you finish it?" she asks, voice unsure as she ducks her head down to stare at the sidewalk.

"I'd like that," Rachel answers warmly, and Quinn lifts her eyes towards the Christmas tree again. "It might even help us to talk about some of that stuff over break."

A couple get up from a nearby bench and nods her head towards it when she notices, catching Rachel's attention. They make their way over to the bench and sit down close together, shivering as a spike of wind passes by them.

She feels Rachel hesitate for a moment before resting her head on Quinn's shoulder, snuggling into the shared warmth a little more.

"Is this okay?" she whispers after a moment, and Quinn glances down to see a grey knit hat and wavy brunette hair resting against her.

Instead of answering with a verbal reply, she shifts her head, resting her cheek against the top of Rachel's hat.

Everything about this moment feels perfect, with Rachel cuddled against her and the Rockefeller Christmas tree on full display before her eyes. She feels her chest flutter, ribcage swelling with warmth and jittery excitement.

"Happy holiday season, Quinn."

She smiles, burrowing against Rachel's fuzzy hat more.

"You too, Rach."


	41. Chapter 41

When they reach the entrance for the 6th Avenue subway stop, Quinn steps to the side so that she doesn't block foot traffic and sets down her bag. Rachel follows her lead, and Quinn pulls her close while the other pedestrians speed past around them. The hug feels entirely natural, devoid of awkwardness in a way that hasn't happened in a while.

Quinn's arms rest around her back and she keeps her arms linked around Quinn's shoulders, leaning towards her ear.

"Thank you for coming this weekend."

Quinn steps back to meet her eyes, arms slipping away from her waist as she smiles.

"I'm really glad we got to work some things out," Quinn replies, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Me too. I hate that you have to leave so soon," she pouts, staggering slightly when a pedestrian in a hurry bumps into her without apology.

Quinn reaches her hand out on instinct, gripping her upper arm to steady her.

"People are always in a hurry here," Quinn remarks with distaste, staring after the unknown man. "Anyway, I'm bummed I have to leave too, but you've got to work on your play all afternoon and I need to get back at a decent time to do all my reading."

"When do your finals start?"

"A week from tomorrow, on the tenth. This Friday is the last day of classes."

A loud taxi horn blares, and she sees the driver gesturing wildly in the car. She kind of loves this city and all its insanity. Quinn doesn't seem to have developed quite the same appreciation for it yet.

"You get back to Lima the day after me, right? On the sixteenth?" Rachel questions, trying to remember their schedules.

"Yep, I get back that Sunday. So two more weeks and we'll be home in Lima together and we can hang out way more," she answers with a smile.

It's hard to believe that their first semester of college will already be over in two weeks. The past few months feel like a blur, and the weeks just blend together.

"I can't wait! But until then, good luck on your exams. I'm sure you'll do great," Rachel says warmly.

"You too, Rach. And good luck on your play. Don't stress about it too much. It'll all come together in time, I promise."

Quinn is very aware of how easily she stresses herself out on exams and big assignments. Between the two of them, Rachel was always the one to get really bad test anxiety.

"Promise you'll text me and stuff this week?" Rachel asks, meeting hazel eyes. "I know we'll be super busy, but I miss hearing from you day to day like I used to. Even if it's just little stuff."

Quinn nods, stepping forward to envelop her in one last hug. Strong arms encircle her back and Rachel sinks into the embrace, resting her chin against Quinn's shoulder.

"I promise," Quinn murmurs against her ear. "I can't guarantee how interesting I'll be, but I'll text you every day if you promise to text me too."

"I will," she assures, reluctantly stepping away from Quinn. "Have a safe trip back to New Haven!"

"I'll let you know as soon as I'm safe back to campus. Bye, Rach."

"Bye."

Quinn gives her one last smile before picking her duffel bag up from the ground and descending the stairs into the subway station. She watches until that head of blonde hair disappears and then she turns back towards the sidewalk.

Time to pick up her stuff from her dorm and head to the library.

**XXxxXX**

Naomi is resting on her bed, laying on her stomach and looking at something on her computer, when Rachel returns to the room.

"Is Quinn on her way back?" Naomi asks once she walks through the door.

"Yeah, I just walked with her to the subway station. I wish she could have stayed longer, but we've both got a lot of homework to do."

Naomi nods, shutting her laptop and moving to sit with her legs crossed on top of her mattress. Rachel moves towards her desk, grabbing different things that she'll need to take with her to the library.

"So…good weekend?"

Rachel turns her head, placing a couple of highlighters in her pencil case.

"Really good. It definitely had its rough spots, but I figured it would. I think it went as well as it could have gone." She pauses, looking down at her desk as she thinks about the past couple of days. "I never realize quite how much I miss her until I'm with her again. I mean, I'm aware that I miss her a lot when she's gone. But when she's here and things are good with us, it's like…"

Naomi observes her closely, small smile on her face.

"Like what?"

"Like…like nothing's missing," Rachel answers, then continues to reach for her school books.

When she looks up again, Naomi is eyeing her with curiosity and looks like she's on the verge of saying something. A beat of silence passes between them and Rachel waits for her to speak.

"What?" she questions, when Naomi is still silent.

"What happened yesterday?" she asks slowly, meeting Rachel's eyes with reluctance. Rachel stands in place, rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly and ducking her head down. "Sorry. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, because it's totally your business. But that was, like,  _super_  tense all of a sudden and I…all I'm saying is that if you need to talk it out, I'm here. I've heard a lot of the Quinn stuff as it's happened this semester, and I just want to make sure you know that you can always talk to me if you need to."

Rachel nods, taking measured steps over to the edge of her bed where she sits down, sliding back until she's resting against the wall with her feet on the blanket and facing her roommate.

"I know. You're kind of wonderful like that," Rachel answers, giving her a smile that Naomi returns. "I'm sorry you had to be here for that yesterday. I'm sure that must have been incredibly awkward for you."

Naomi relaxes back against her own wall and they face each other, just a few feet apart in their narrow dorm room.

"It's okay. I was mainly just worried about you. Quinn was…intense."

"It all worked out. Quinn finally opened up a little about our time in high school when things…weren't so great between us. We've needed to deal with our past for a long time. We both have questions that can't be answered unless we talk about it. I think we're both confused, and still somewhat guarded."

Naomi rests her chin against her bent knee, listening patiently.

"What is Quinn confused about?"

"What do you mean?" Rachel asks, pulling her small blanket up over her legs.

"You've talked about how you don't understand Quinn's actions from back then. Or, at least, you didn't. But what's Quinn confused about?"

Rachel is quiet for a moment, tucking her hands into the soft blanket and meeting Naomi's eyes when she answers.

"I think she's confused by how I moved past the hurtful things she did. She wanted so badly to be a part of my life that she never questioned why I was willing to give her a chance. But looking back on it now, I think she's wondering why I did. I feel like a part of her thinks she never deserved to have me in her life after the way she treated me."

Naomi regards her carefully, and she wonders about all the things that seem to be going through her roommate's head right now.

"Why did you? That's the big part of this that I've never understood from you. If her actions affected you that much, why  _did_  you let her into your life?"

One of the only reasons that she's glad her and Quinn haven't talked about their past that much is because of this. Because she still doesn't have a solid answer.

She knows that a part of her always felt sympathy for Quinn, and that it had a lot to do with how lost Quinn seemed to be. Something about Quinn drew her attention, and their lives seemed to constantly cross paths even when she didn't want them to. But she doesn't have a clear reason for why she gave Quinn a real chance. The only reason that surfaces in her mind is that  _it's Quinn_  and that always felt like explanation enough. There was something about Quinn Fabray that made her an exception for no distinct reason, other than her slight sympathy for the girl.

As soon as she thinks of voicing that aloud though, she knows it's a hollow response.

"I don't know, Naomi. I don't have a simple answer for that," she states, looking down at her lap.

'Well then give me a complicated one."

Rachel's lips quirk up, not quite a smile but feeling more at ease. Naomi isn't demanding an explanation. She isn't desperate to know in the same way that Quinn would be if they were ever open enough to have this conversation. Naomi is just patiently curious, and trying to help her work through this by talking about it.

"Because…she's Quinn," she says after a moment. "And I know that's the stupidest answer to anyone outside of my own head, but that's the best way to summarize it. There's something about her that made me give her a chance. Maybe it was because I always had a feeling that there was more going on than she let people see. A part of me always wanted her to accept me, and when it finally seemed like she wanted to, I let her."

Naomi frowns slightly, more in confusion than anything else, and thinks through Rachel's words.

"But Rachel… that doesn't add up. At least, not the way you're explaining it. I've been with you when you've talked about thinking no one would be interested in you, and I know Quinn played a big part in making you feel that way. You talk about your past like it hurt you a ton, but you talk about your present relationship with Quinn like you trust her completely. It doesn't make sense."

Rachel flinches, listening as Naomi displays the huge contrast without apology. She doesn't know how to make this clear, not when it's still so jumbled in her own head.

"I don't know how to explain this to you, Naomi," she sighs, resting her head back against the wall.

Her roommate meets her eyes, biting her lip between her teeth in quiet contemplation.

"Maybe that's because you don't actually have an explanation," Naomi states, gently releasing the scary truth. "I think…okay, please don't get mad at me for what I'm about to say. Just hear me out for a sec, alright?"

Rachel blinks at her, nodding with sudden nervousness. She has no idea where this is going, but the fact that Naomi feels the need to warn her has her on edge.

"Do you think that maybe you had a crush on Quinn in high school and didn't realize that's what it was?"

She has no idea what she expected Naomi to say, but it definitely wasn't  _that_. Her heart thrums in her chest as she stares at her roommate with wide eyes and a total lack of comprehension. The claim is ridiculous, so far from the truth that she wants to explain herself more just so that she can clarify for her roommate, but the look that Naomi gives her halts any attempt to speak. It's determined and focused, silently reminding her that she promised to listen for a moment.

"Before you freak out on me, let me explain," Naomi says slowly, trying to make her sit back and just listen. "You talk about Quinn like she was special somehow, like she was an exception. You say that you were drawn to her, even when she was awful to you, and that you always felt linked to her even though you didn't know why. You always wanted her to accept you and like you, despite the fact that you couldn't stand her behavior. And when she finally waved the white flag and declared peace, you accepted without making her apologize or explain herself. I guess what I'm saying is…you're the most rational person I know, Rachel. But everything about how you responded to Quinn was  _irrational_. You can't explain why because it seems like you don't actually  _have_  an explanation. The only thing I can imagine that would make you respond in those ways would be if something was going on to make you respond irrationally, to make you respond in a way that went against your instincts."

She listens to Naomi's explanation with labored breath, waiting for the outlandish statement to happen, the moment where she can affirm that her roommate's claim is ridiculous. But the scary and confusing part is that the moment never comes. Still, there is one big issue with her claim.

"I'll accept that your explanation  _could_  hold potential merit. Except that you're ignoring a key factor, Naomi. All the other total crush symptoms that weren't there. I never felt like I wanted to hold her hand, or…or kiss her," Rachel says adamantly, blush tinting her cheeks though her voice remains steady. "I wasn't drawing hearts in a notebook or thinking about how our names sound together."

Naomi has this small smile on her face as she defends herself, and it's driving her insane. Her roommate isn't seeing the huge disconnect in her claim and she can't understand why Naomi is still looking at her like this theory makes sense.

"Yeah, but why would you actively think about kissing the person who is so mean to you?" Naomi asks smoothly, quirking her eyebrow. "Quinn made you nervous, and not in that butterfly feeling kind of way. She made you legit ready to hide in a corner nervous. If it  _was_  a crush, those normal feelings that you would expect to be there would have been masked by your fear of getting hurt. But you clearly thought she was beautiful. You  _told_  me that you thought that back then, even when she was still mean to you."

The more that her roommate talks, the more her pulse thunders through her veins, beating erratically. She wants to say that none of this makes sense, and that her roommate is misinformed.

But…she's  _not_. This all makes such terrifying sense that all she can do is stare with wide eyes and look for the loophole.

There's no way that she had a crush on Quinn in high school before they became friends. How could she have had a crush on someone and not even  _realize_ it?

"But…I had a crush on her  _boyfriend_ ," she splutters. " _He_  was the one I was all smitten over! He was the one that I wanted to kiss and go out to dinner with and walk hand in hand with in the hallway at school."

Naomi smiles, patient as she flounders through her confusion. When her mouth bobs open, further words escaping her, she laughs.

"I'm not saying you didn't. It's possible to have a crush on more than one person, Rachel. And I could also say shit about the fact that you pursued  _her_  boyfriend, of all the damn people in your high school, but I don't want to go there. Whatever your reasons were for liking the guy, it doesn't take away from the fact that I think you always liked Quinn too. I'm not saying you were madly in love with her or anything, Rach. I'm saying that I think there was some kind of buried crush that you couldn't see for what it was."

Rachel blinks, looking down to the blanket covering her lap as her mind races. This is all too much to handle right now. It was complicated enough when she found out Quinn had always had feelings for her. But the thought that she might have _reciprocated_  those feelings at some point, though on a smaller level, is too much. She dated Finn. She was in love with  _Finn_.

"She's my best friend, Naomi," she says meekly, looking up at her roommate with scared eyes.

"I know she is. And Rachel, you know yourself better than I know you.  _Obviously_. Only you can say for sure what was going on in your head. I'm just telling you what makes the most sense to me as an outsider who has learned a lot about the situation over the past few months."

Rachel nods slightly, mind still reeling.

"Whether or not I did have a crush on Quinn at some point, I don't have a crush on her  _now_. You know that, right?"

Naomi raises her eyebrow, laughing. "I'm pretty sure you two would be a thing by now if you did. Don't you?"

She hears all of the things that Naomi doesn't voice aloud, but are implied in the question. That if she had a crush on Quinn now, it wouldn't be masked by the fear that it used to be and she would be aware of it. That if she still had that same crush, she wouldn't have been so panicked by Quinn confessing her love. Her reaction would have been decidedly different.

"Probably," she mumbles, mind still caught in her  _past_  feelings. A few seconds of silence pass between them before Naomi hesitantly speaks again.

"You have every right to tell me I'm wrong about this, Rachel. Okay? It's your life and your history with Quinn. Not mine. It's just a theory on my part," Naomi emphasizes, watching her as she sits in silent panic. She offered her opinion, and now she's letting it be. She knows that Naomi isn't going to push it, and she's grateful for that.

"Yeah, I know. I, umm…I need to get to the library," she mutters distractedly. Naomi bites on her lip, eyeing her with mild concern as she stands up and walks back over to her desk, packing the remainder of her things into her backpack. Her bag is zipped up and she's pocketing her ipod when Naomi speaks again.

"I'm sorry if I freaked you out. Just think about it. If what I said doesn't apply…then it doesn't. Don't stress about it, okay?"

"I won't," Rachel replies, convincing neither of them. "I probably won't be back until after dinner. I have a lot of work to do. So I'll see you later."

"Rachel…"

"Bye."

She pushes the door open into the hallway, clicking it shut a second later and heading for the elevators. Her headphones are nestled against her ears by the time she presses the button to go down, and she scrolls through her music library as she waits for the elevator to arrive. After a few seconds where she can't even decide on a  _genre_  to listen to, she gives up and hits shuffle on her entire library. She just needs  _sound_  right now.

A song comes on that she doesn't recognize as the elevator arrives, but she isn't surprised. She has so much music on her ipod, a lot of it from Quinn, that it's not unusual to come across a song she's never heard before. It's clear as soon as the guitar and piano chords start that this is one of the bands that Quinn put into her library.

Something about the slow emotional way that the lyrics start catches her attention immediately, and she turns up the volume on her headphones.

" _You only know what I want you to_ ," a man with a clear soothing voice sings. A moment later a female voice answers, " _I know everything you don't want me to_."

The elevator descends to the ground floor and she continues to listen to the song with interest.

" _Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine…You think your dreams are the same as mine_."

She feels her breath catch in her throat as she steps past the doors of the elevator into the lobby a moment later.

" _Oh, I don't love you, but I always will_."

That line repeats several times, and she feels her mind get transported back to sophomore year. It reminds her so much of Quinn that it makes her heart clench. Knowing now that Quinn was in love with her, even as every part of her fought not to be.

She reaches the exit of her dorm building as the next verse begins, and she listens, transfixed.

" _I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back_ ," the female voice croons, and she squeezes her eyes shut on impulse.

This song isn't just Quinn during sophomore year. It's  _both_  of them. The give and take between the two singers is so fitting that she can't help but stop in the middle of the sidewalk and just listen.

" _The less I give, the more I get back_."

" _Oh, your hands can heal, your hands can bruise_ ," the female voice responds.

To which the man sings, " _I don't have a choice, but I still choose you_."

So often she has wished that her history with Quinn wasn't so complicated. It's never been an easy road for them. As soon as it started to feel like things had settled, everything came crashing down this semester. But the more she talks with Quinn and Naomi, and the more she works on this play, the more she realizes that she wouldn't change their past. Because there's no telling where they would be now had things happened differently.

As that same line starts repeating itself again, she clicks on her ipod to see the name of the song. She reads along the top where it states, "Poison & Wine", and she slides her ipod unlocked to see that it's by a band called The Civil Wars.

Poison and Wine. The worst and the best all from the same person.

Just like that, she knows that this song is going to be used in her play.

Because she's never heard a more fitting description for her journey with Quinn Fabray in her life.

She's listened to the song four times through by the time she's picked a cubicle in the library, and she pulls out her laptop and her notebook, getting settled. As the song starts to play for the fifth time, now that it's been set to repeat, she opens her notebook and flicks through the pages of annotations that she's made so far.

She reaches the more recent pages where she had tried to dissect how they each felt, especially during that tumultuous period during sophomore year. She glances through her notes on Quinn's perspective, reading through what she had considered thus far, before she reaches the notes on herself.

Her pen is gripped in her hand and she reaches a space of several blank lines at the bottom of the page. The woman in the song sings, " _Oh your hands can heal, your hands can bruise,"_ and she presses her the tip of her pen into the paper.

_I think I had a crush on Quinn Fabray._

The second that she stares down at the inked sentence, she knows that it's true.

She knows that the reason why she was freaked out by what Naomi said was because it made sense. She could feel it as soon as Naomi explained.

As she thinks back to the way she was drawn to Quinn and to the way that she fixated on her beauty, it all clicks into place.

She loved Finn. She even loved Jesse at one point.

But she also had a crush on Quinn, buried beneath the surface.

She had a crush that made her willing to give Quinn a chance, despite every logical reason that told her not to.

The day that Quinn showed up at her house to work on their duet vividly flickers through her mind. She remembers Quinn sitting cross-legged on the rug in her bedroom, scrolling through the music library on her laptop as Rachel sat anxiously watching her. Quinn had looked up at her and smiled a genuine smile, shy and with no hint of malice. And for the first time, giddiness had swelled past the nervousness and the fear.

She leans forward and lifts her pen again to scratch a short line on the page, crossing out the first two words so that only a part of the sentence remains.

_I had a crush on Quinn Fabray._

**XXxxXX**

Four hours later, her neck is cramping and her eyes are starting to blur a little.

She needs to take a walk and she needs caffeine.

The girl at the desk next to her looks up when she stands, and Rachel grabs her wallet and her phone. They've been sitting together in almost silence for the past couple of hours.

"Can you keep an eye on my stuff for a few minutes?"

The girl smiles, nodding. "No problem."

She did the same thing for the girl about half an hour ago, so she's not worried. Her back cracks as soon as she stretches her arms over her head, and she walks towards the stairs to go to the café on the first floor.

The man behind the counter takes her order for a regular coffee with a splash of soy milk, and a couple minutes later it's ready for her on the counter.

As she reluctantly makes her way back upstairs, feet dragging, she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. When she looks down at the screen to see who sent the incoming text, she sees the contact name illuminating the alert.

Luke.

She clicks the button to view the message, leaning against the railing of the staircase.

_Hey, Rachel! Hope you a good weekend. Just wanted to see if we were still on for coffee on Wednesday. :)_

The message doesn't do anything for her. It doesn't make her excited about the date. All it does is make her realize that the guy hasn't been on her mind at all. She sighs, knowing that when she sees him she's going to break things off with him. Because she refuses to do that over the phone.

_Sounds good. How about at 7? We can meet at the same place as last time._

A minute later, as she reaches the right floor of the library again, her phone buzzes with a reply text.

_Ok see you then!_

A twinge of guilt flares in her chest, but she reminds herself that she hasn't done anything wrong. The guy isn't even her boyfriend, and she knows now that she doesn't want him to be.

**XXxxXX**

Another hour has sped past, and she's proud of how much progress she's made in the past several hours. The play, or  _musical_  as she should probably start calling it, is really coming together. She'll be able to work on it more tomorrow and have a decent draft to turn in to her professor on Tuesday.

When she checks the clock on her computer, she reads that it's almost six pm. The glow of the screen is starting to hurt her eyes and she knows it's time for a longer break. She needs to grab some dinner, and then she can work on it for another hour before she calls it a night on this assignment. Because unfortunately, she's still got stuff to do for her other classes.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket as she approaches the dining hall, and a different name illuminates her screen this time.

_I just gave the guy behind the counter at Woodland a high five because they're playing passion pit on the speakers right now. I doubt he had any control over that, but I got excited. I hope your assignment is going ok. Don't push yourself too hard!_

She smiles, clicking the button to reply to Quinn's text.

_**It's going well. Headed to the dining hall now to get some dinner. Which song was it?** _

The woman at the register swipes her keycard to let her into the dining hall and her phone buzzes in her hand.

_Cuddle Fuddle. Best of their song titles tbh_

Rachel thinks about the twirling melodies and the steady bass beat of the song with its distracting rhythm, laughing as she types her reply.

_**Nice study music, Q.** _

She's barely walked fifteen feet when her phone vibrates again.

_Definitely conducive for 80 pages of Shakespeare reading._

_**I'll let you get to that. :P Talk to you later!** _

She refuses to type 'ttyl', always has and always will. Quinn doesn't care, but Naomi still teases her for it.

_Later :)_

She smiles, glancing down at her final text. Quinn is texting her silly stuff like she used to, just as promised.


	42. Chapter 42

Rachel knows from experience that there are few things more academically daunting than being presented with a huge assignment or exam that will make or break her final grade. It's stressful, and for someone who tends to get academic anxiety, somewhat terrifying.

However, as she stares at the large document on her computer screen that is now filled with complete dialogue and only lacks stage direction in certain areas, she realizes there is nothing quite like the feeling of successfully completing one of those daunting assignments. The structure of her musical is complete. All of the major components are locked into place, and smaller details are all that's left to finish. She knows that certain things will require editing, especially after she receives feedback from her teaching assistant, but her musical is more than competent enough to be submitted as a rough draft.

She's  _proud_  of how this assignment has come together, this assignment that originally stirred much resentment within her. She had hoped, anticipated even, that she would learn more about Quinn through this endeavor. What she never expected was just how  _much_  she would learn. When she originally thought of taking on this topic, she still didn't even know that Quinn was gay. Now they're here, a few months later, and it feels like so much has changed.

She leans back in her chair in the library, rubbing at her eyes and blinking blearily out the window next to her. The city is buzzing with life on the street below, a stark contrast to the quiet containment of the place where she sits. Taxi cabs swerve through lanes just as they do in the middle of the day, and lights of the neighboring buildings illuminate the night sky.

As her thoughts trace back to Quinn, she wonders what the other girl is doing right now. Is she cooped up in the library too? She probably has her nose buried in some Shakespeare play or philosophy treatise.

It's not exactly unusual for her to be thinking about Quinn, especially in light of the assignment that she's been working on like crazy since Quinn left yesterday morning. The difference is that now she can't help but question the reason for her focus on Quinn. Every time her thoughts stray to Quinn outside of the context of her musical, she thinks about her revelation from yesterday and what she talked about with Naomi.

The same hesitance and self-doubt comes rushing back as her mind fondly conjures images of Quinn curled up with a book in some corner at Woodland, before she can even censor it or stop herself. She flips open the heavily annotated notebook next to her, turning back to the page from yesterday.

_I had a crush on Quinn Fabray._

There it is, the sentence that's had her head spinning in circles ever since she inked the admission onto paper yesterday. The part that has been plaguing her mind the most today, the part that's making her question herself every time she thinks of Quinn, is the finality of the past tense in the sentence.

_Had._

_Had_  a crush.

She wrote it with conviction yesterday, without much of a second thought.

The problem is that the sentence poses a basic question that she doesn't seem to have an answer for. That is-

If she  _had_  a crush on Quinn, then at what point did the crush end?

It had to end at some point. That's how it works. The feelings fade and the attraction that once lingered isn't as present any more. The person isn't as interested as they once were, whatever the reason for that may be.

She's inclined to say that her crush probably dissipated right around the time that she truly started to befriend Quinn. As they got to know each other more, those misguided feelings morphed into friendship. That would make sense.

Except it doesn't. Not if she's honest with herself.

Naomi had this knowing smile yesterday when she adamantly stated that she doesn't have feelings for Quinn anymore. The look on her roommate's face has been shaking her confidence in her own claims.

But it's ridiculous. Just because she can't pinpoint an exact time period when her crush for Quinn faded doesn't mean she still  _has_  a crush on her. Naomi claimed that the reason she was blind to it in the past was because of her fear and insecurity around Quinn.

Quinn is her best friend now, and while they still have their issues, she isn't in constant defense mode whenever she's with her. She isn't afraid that Quinn will target her with unmerited cruelty.

She doesn't know when the crush faded, because right around the time that it  _would_  have faded, they started becoming close friends and everything became muddled. She started to appreciate Quinn for other things, like how she's fiercely protective of the people she cares about, or how she's actually a total dork even though she hides it well.

Those are qualities that she might appreciate in a romantic relationship, but they're also qualities that she really enjoys having in her best friend.

So where's the line? There are obviously things that she loves about Quinn. But what's the difference between qualities that she appreciates in a friend and qualities that she admires in a potential partner?

The line isn't clearly defined, and it's blurred this whole situation even further. Relationships didn't used to be confusing, not in this way at least, because she wasn't  _looking_  for the right things in her romantic relationships. Now that she's more aware of the type of person who would be good for her, she recognizes that there's a lot of overlap between what she needs from friends and what she needs from a romantic partner.

The greatest distinguisher between the two isn't character qualities. It's instinctual romantic attraction that separates the two. It's that basic undeniable desire for  _more_.

So, sure, there could be similarities between Quinn and the people she considers dating. But the real question is if Quinn could  _be_  one of those people.

_Does_  she want more with Quinn? Or are there just a lot of things that she loves about her as a friend?

She's indulged the thought a few times, the thought of what it would be like to date Quinn. It was kind of hard  _not_  to when Quinn spilled her heart out and admitted her feelings. If nothing else, simple curiosity made her consider the what-ifs. But it's always been in vague fleeting thoughts- wondering what Quinn would plan for a first date, or simply what it would be  _like_  to date her. Her brain has never pushed past that and into specifics.

But maybe that's what is necessary in order to settle this once and for all. She has to ask herself if she can truly see the potential for more, or if the only place for Quinn in her life is as a friend.

Rachel reclines more in her chair, tipping her head back and letting her eyes slip shut.

_Okay. It's simple, really. Am I attracted to Quinn? Can I picture myself on a real date with her?_

She lets the questions invade her mind, striving to be as objective about it as possible.

She tries to imagine them on a date somewhere, sharing conversation over their meals in a restaurant. But she can't picture anything different. The scenario feels exactly like something she and Quinn would do as friends.

The next logical question that comes to her mind makes her blush with sudden embarrassment. But for the first time, she gives it genuine consideration.

_Can I imagine myself…kissing Quinn?_

If she really wants to deal with this head on, she has to be willing to ask herself the questions that would truly differentiate them between friends and…more than friends. Her face flushes warm, and she's sure that her cheeks are tinted pink right now, even if no one around her in the library has any idea why. Just the thought of Naomi being privy to her thoughts right now, or even worse, Quinn, makes the embarrassment and nervous energy thrum throughout her body.

She fights past it though, and focuses on the act itself. She reluctantly recalls the ghost of an image, not quite solid but still taking shape. There's blonde hair and determined hazel eyes and the flicker of a touch against her wrist pulling her closer. Lips don't even become a factor until Quinn's face presents itself in much greater clarity. There is no context for this scenario, no place or moment in time. It's just this impression of Quinn, drifting in her mind with nothing to ground it, out of reach.

When she finally looks into those hazel eyes, the scenario morphs into something real, solid. Her mind flickers back to that night in New Haven, running through the field laughing after karaoke night. She traces through the memory of Quinn holding the side of her face, gently running her thumb against her cheek just once before leaning forward. The memory is still so vivid, and it's one that she typically recalls with a heavy heart.

But this time, she doesn't let herself recall the seconds that followed. She doesn't think about that moment when reality settled in and she pushed Quinn away in complete shock.

Instead, she indulges the what-ifs. She allows her brain to conjure images of what could have happened, had she been receptive to Quinn's advances. The picture is clear this time, blonde hair and piercing hazel eyes vivid in her mind. She can picture it so clearly, how Quinn's breath would have hitched the moment she started responding. How those soft lips, slightly chapped from the fall wind, would have slid slowly against hers, only brave enough to apply more pressure once she pulled Quinn closer. She imagines that Quinn would have become more assertive then, gripping her waist tighter as she threaded her fingers through soft blonde hair and looped her arm around Quinn's neck.

The entire scenario races through her mind before she can even process it or control her thoughts. It isn't until she imagines the tentative glide of a tongue across her lower lip that she wrenches her eyes open and sits up straight in her chair.

She inhales shallow breaths, erratic pulse racing through her veins as she looks around the library with wide eyes. Everyone is doing exactly what they were before, reading and writing as if she never just thought about making out with her best friend.

She presses the palms of her hands against her forehead, staring unseeing at her laptop screen.

"Oh my god."

The girl at the cubicle across from her glances up briefly, but turns back to her textbook when Rachel doesn't say anything more. Her laptop screen dims, going into energy saving mode when she continues to leave it untouched.

That did  _not_  just happen. She most certainly did  _not_  just think about kissing Quinn in vivid detail. Because even though the line between friendship and romance is a little blurred right now, she knows well enough that enjoying the thought of  _kissing_  her most definitely crosses that line.

**XXxxXX**

When she slips into her bed later that night, pulling the blankets up beneath her chin, a few tears slide down from behind her closed eyelids. Naomi is already asleep in her own bed, and so she opens her eyes to the darkness above her. The faint glow of city lights barely permeates the curtains and the darkness of the room.

She has lived most of her life in a mentality of certainty, for better or for worse. Certainty that she was meant to end up in New York City. Certainty that Finn Hudson was the person she should marry. Certainty that one day she would be appreciated for her talent and the ridicule in high school would just be the ghost of a memory.

Her feelings and opinions are clear. They come to her easily, and are constantly on the surface, accessible. Some people might call that dramatic, but to her it's just a matter of being confident in her own claims. She knows who she is and how she feels.

That's why everything about this situation with Quinn is unfamiliar, and quite honestly, terrifying. She's never been this unsure of what she knows, never been this uncertain of where her feelings and thoughts lie.

It's scary to think you're sure of something, only to be proven wrong.

But, she's discovering that constant uncertainty is infinitely scarier.

**XXxxXX**

At the end of class the next day, everyone is moving towards the front of the room to turn in their plays to the teaching assistants. Rachel takes her time, flipping through the pages of her draft as she walks and appreciating all of the work that she put into it. When she finally reaches the front of the class, most of the students have already filtered out of the room. She hands the full rough draft of her musical to her teaching assistant with a small smile and pulls out her phone while she walks towards the exit.

"Ms. Berry," her professor states, catching her attention.

"Yes?" She stands near his desk, a little confused as to why he stopped her.

"Am I to assume from your large rough draft that you found your story to tell?" he asks, smiling.

"I did. I definitely found my story worth telling," she answers, smiling too.

"I knew you would." He gathers his briefcase and a few stray papers from the desk.

"I've actually ended up being very grateful for this assignment. It's been…enlightening."

Her professor laughs lightly. "That's good to hear. I look forward to reading your final draft in a couple of weeks."

"Thank you, professor."

She gives a slight nod in farewell and then turns back towards the exit, stepping into the hall as she pulls out her phone again.

Her smile widens when she sees that she has a text from Quinn waiting for her.

_I was doing homework last night at Sigma Chi with J. I guess I got more tired than I thought. He took this picture at around 1 am lol_

Attached to the text is a picture of Quinn, asleep on top of her notebook at a table, with a pile of books stacked next to her. Her short blonde hair is sticking out of the hood of her Yale sweatshirt, head burrowed on top of her arms.

She looks so peaceful in sleep, and kind of adorable all bundled up in her oversized Yale hoodie. Her stomach flips at the thought, and she clears her throat, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder.

_**At least you look like you were comfortable! ;P**_

She sends off the text and walks towards the elevators to head to the dining hall for lunch. Her phone buzzes in her hand when she presses the elevator button to go down.

_I can fall asleep just about anywhere if I'm tired enough. How about you? Did you get your play turned in ok?_

A couple of other students step onto the elevator with her and she types out her reply.

_**Yep! Just handed it in. :D**_

Quinn's response is almost immediate.

_Congrats, Rach! I'm sure it turned out great._

She can so easily hear Quinn saying those words, the gentle way that she would say her nickname and the genuine tone of her congratulations. The reassurance that she did a good job, just because Quinn knows that she always worries about her performance on academic assignments.

_**Thank you 3**_

She doesn't know what possesses her to add the heart at the end, but she feels like a blunt thank you isn't enough. She wants Quinn to know that she appreciates her encouragement and support.

But as soon as she sends it, she wonders whether or not she should have. They used to include hearts and other cute stuff like that in their texts all the time. It just hasn't happened in the past couple of months much at all. She feels stupid for worrying about such a minor inconsequential thing, and yet she still feels slightly nervous as she waits for Quinn to reply.

Barely a minute later though, Quinn sends back a tiny reply that puts her at ease.

_:)_

She breathes in relief, and then internally berates herself for her own stupid worrying. She can't stop second guessing herself when it comes to Quinn.

And apparently, that now includes their texting conversations.

**XXxxXX**

"So remind me again why the hell you're still meeting up with Luke tonight?" Naomi says, munching on a graham cracker while Rachel touches up her mascara.

She looks over to the bed where Naomi is sitting down, reading through her art history textbook, and rolls her eyes.

"I  _told_  you- I'm not breaking this off with him over the phone. I'd rather do it in person."

Naomi raises her eyebrow and gives her that look, the one where she knows her roommate is filtering her words and communicating her opinion through facial expression alone.

"He's a nice guy, Naomi. I don't want to blow him off."

Naomi quirks her eyebrow, suggestively this time, and smirks. "Clearly. If you  _did_  want to, you wouldn't be ending this."

It takes her a moment to catch on to Naomi's double entendre, but when she does she scowls and turns away.

"Ugh you're more crass than  _Santana_  sometimes," she huffs, and Naomi chuckles. "Now stop making sexual jokes and tell me which shirt I should wear," she commands, holding up two different blouses.

Naomi laughs loudly this time, shaking her head. "You're unreal sometimes."

"I assure you I'm very real. Now, which top says 'you're sweet and charming but this isn't going to work out'?"

"I don't think a shirt's going to say that for you, Rach."

She frowns, looking down at the two different options.

"Darn it."

"You've never ended it with a guy before, have you?"

Rachel sighs, tossing both of the tops onto her bed.

"We're not even together, really. Just casually dating. But the only time I did anything like this was with Noah. We made out for a couple days, and then I told him we had to stop."

Naomi laughs and looks at her, clearly amused.

"Noah?"

Rachel's eyes widen a little and she nods, finally picking a shirt from the bed to wear.

"I forget that there are still people you don't know about. Noah Puckerman, or Puck as most people called him, was a popular guy at my school. He had a mohawk, thought he was a badass. We bonded over our Jewish faith. He's also the one who got Quinn pregnant."

Naomi stops laughing and looks at her in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Wait a second, didn't Quinn also date Finn? How many guys have you twotraded around?"

Rachel blushes as she finishes pulling her shirt on and looks to her roommate.

"Just them. And the thing with Puck was very brief. It was Finn that constantly stood in the middle of us."

"I still can't believe Quinn dated him. Though I'm sure she had very different reasons for it than you did."

Rachel pauses in gathering the stuff to put into her purse. "What do you mean?"

"She was gay the whole time, Rachel. Any popular guy would have worked for her. It would have all been the same, since they were just shielding her reputation. When did she start dating Finn?"

She thinks back, trying to remember when she first heard through rumors that they were dating.

"The beginning of sophomore year, I think. She didn't really care about keeping him as her boyfriend that much until he joined Glee though."

Naomi gives her a pointed look, waiting for her to make the connection.

"She could've just moved on to a different guy, Rachel."

Rachel stares at her roommate intently until it clicks.

"You're saying that Quinn was trying to…"

"Keep Finn away from you? Yeah. Think about it. It would suck to have all these hidden feelings for someone that you can't act on, all while some guy can pursue what you want. If she couldn't have you, then she didn't want anyone else to either."

Rachel blushes and looks away, messing with the zipper on her purse to keep her hands occupied. The way that Naomi talks about it so casually is unnerving, like the topic of Quinn _wanting_  her is simple fact. Meanwhile, whenever she hears or thinks about Quinn wanting her like that, she still has to fight to even remind herself that it's real.

Quinn wants her. Quinn has  _always_  wanted her.

She's still adjusting to that. Unlike Naomi, who seems to have accepted it from the very beginning.

"All discussion of Quinn and her motives aside, I  _am_  meeting up with Luke tonight. It will probably be awkward, but he deserves to hear it from me in person. I'll be back in a little while," she says, wrapping up her conversation with Naomi. She needs to be done with talking about Quinn so that she can focus on handling the situation with Luke. All of her thoughts involving Quinn right now are complicated, and she needs her thoughts to  _not_  be complicated right now.

"Bye! Good luck," Naomi smiles, watching her head towards the door. Right as she's closing the door shut behind her, Naomi calls out, "Remember that one hundred percent honesty is not always necessary!"

She ducks her head back into the room, peering at Naomi with her eyebrows scrunched.

"I know you pride yourself on being a very honest person, but you don't need to tell him that your best friend is totally gay for you. That's not necessary information for him to know."

" _Bye_ , Naomi," she says more forcefully this time, rolling her eyes as she pulls the door shut.

Naomi does have a point though.

Luke doesn't need to know that her feelings are kind of confused by her best friend right now. He doesn't need to know that pretty much every time they've hung out together since the night they met she's been comparing him to Quinn.

**XXxxXX**

She arrives a few minutes before seven and orders her own drink. He'll probably be confused that she ordered without him, but the last thing she needs is for him to pay for her drink right before she breaks things off.

Luke arrives shortly after the barista hands over her drink, and he smiles at her when he sees her sitting in a chair by the window.

"Hey, Rachel," he greets warmly, and she stands up to meet him. He pulls her into a comfortable hug, and she'll admit that it feels nice. He doesn't squeeze his arms too tight, but there is a quiet strength to the way that he holds her.

But that's all it is. It's nice. It's safe. Something that she would appreciate from a close guy friend. When he shifts his head to lean in for a kiss, she deflects, smiling softly and stepping out of the embrace. That's when he notices that her drink is already sitting on the table.

"Is everything okay?" he asks hesitantly, slipping his coat off.

"Yeah. I, umm, I need to talk to you. But go ahead and order yourself a drink if you want to," she says, stumbling awkwardly on her words.

This is already so uncomfortable. Why does she have to be so bad at this?

"No, I can wait. I get the sense that this won't be a casual coffee talk," he answers slowly, sitting down at her table.

They face each other in silence for a few seconds before Rachel musters the courage to speak and clears her throat.

"Luke, I…the first time I met you, do you know what really caught my attention?" He looks at her closely, shaking his head once without speaking, allowing her to continue. "You listened to me. You were engaged in the conversation, and I could tell you actually  _enjoyed_  talking to me. That doesn't happen to me with guys a lot," Rachel admits, ducking her head down.

She pauses for a moment, and Luke shifts his hands on the table before replying, "I have no idea where you're going with this, Rachel."

When she looks up to meet his eyes, his lips quirk up into not quite a smile, and she inhales a slow breath.

"Sorry. It's just…there were many things about you that drew me in, and that's why it took me a little while to realize that…that I didn't feel  _more_. I enjoy hanging out with you, and I think that I would really love having you in my life, but…"

"But not in a romantic way," Luke concludes, realizing where this conversation is going.

Rachel nods, biting on her lip nervously as she meets his eyes. "I'm really sorry. You have no idea how much I wish I did feel that way about you. You're a great guy."

"Do you know what caught  _my_  attention?" Luke asks gently, surprising her. She shakes her head. "Your passion." She listens to him with interest, relaxing her rigid posture a little. "You talked so passionately about the things you care about. Performing, animal rights, your love for this city." She smiles, and he continues. "My point is that you were passionate about the things in your life, and I loved that. But I could also tell that you haven't had that same energy and passion for this thing between us. I was hoping it would just take time, but I guess it's not meant to be."

"I'm sorry," she repeats, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't be. Like you said, it's not like you can control how you feel."

She nods in acceptance and looks down at her hands folded on the table as a brief silence passes between them. When Luke doesn't say anything further, she shifts awkwardly in her seat and glances up.

"So…now what?" Rachel questions, squeezing her hands together more tightly.

Luke meets her eyes and gives her a subdued smile.

"Now I get my coffee to-go, and give you a friendly hug goodbye." He moves to stand up from his seat, but Rachel finds herself placing her hand on his, halting him.

"Luke, you should know that…I would never intentionally lead you on. I'm not used to people expressing romantic interest in me, and so I was quick to try to reciprocate that interest. Do you see what I mean?" she asks nervously, looking up at him.

He grasps her hand lightly and traces his thumb around the curve of her palm for a moment.

"I understand. But you don't need to be surprised when people like you, Rachel. You're beautiful, and I'm not going to be the last person to notice that."

She feels her cheeks flush warmly and she gives him a smile, a silent thank you, as he squeezes her hand just once before letting go and turning to walk towards the counter.

"Bye, Rachel."

"Bye," she murmurs, and he glances back as she puts her coat on to acknowledge that he heard her.

The cold December air strikes her lungs when she steps out of the shop to head back to campus. Each breath that she takes clears her mind and takes away the lingering guilt over how things worked out with Luke.

Like he said-

It wasn't meant to be, so it's time to move on.

**XXxxXX**

The nice thing about finally turning in her rough draft is that it's given her a chance to relax a bit for a couple of days. Finals are still rapidly approaching, only four days away until they officially begin, but most final exams are performance focused. There are few classes that have traditional written exams that require lots of textbook style studying at NYADA. The only other final that she truly has to devote time to this weekend is her music theory final, and she feels pretty comfortable with the material. The introductory acting class final is notoriously easy. Her play is by far the biggest task for the end of the semester, and she won't get her feedback from her teaching assistant until Saturday. A lot of other students are probably already working on their plays again, but those are the students who know they had weak rough drafts. Her final draft is due in eight days, on the 14th, and she's oddly calm about it. She knows that her rough draft was good, good enough that it could have served as a solid final draft even.

NYADA operates on a different schedule of examinations and performance evaluations. The upperclassmen students are graded more on their major performances, which happen in November for the fall semester and April for the spring semester. It's really only the underclassmen in the general lecture classes that have to deal with traditional written final exams. And even then, she knows that her final exam period won't be nearly as stressful as what Quinn will likely be enduring as an English major at Yale.

It's for these reasons that she doesn't feel guilty for taking the time to relax and watch an old episode of Friends when she gets back from dinner. Naomi has been a lot scarcer since she has several final projects due that require a lot of studio time, so she has the room to herself.

The episode is about ten minutes through when her phone rings on her desk and she sees a picture of her dad come onto the screen.

"Hi, dad!" she greets happily, accepting the call.

"Hey there, sweetheart. How are you?" her dad Leroy asks warmly.

"I'm good! I turned in the rough draft of my musical on Tuesday and I only have a couple of things to worry about this weekend. Finals aren't too bad here. At least, not while I'm still a freshman and don't have showcase," she informs him, moving over to her bed to lie back on the comforter.

She relaxes into her pillow as her dad answers, "I'm sure that's nice. Probably easier than all of the AP exams you had to deal with at McKinley, I imagine."

"Definitely. How are you and Daddy doing? Is he there with you right now?"

She hears a little bit of rustling in the background as her dad's voice fades out for a moment before returning.

"Yes, he's here. We're having a bit of a late dinner tonight, and he's just finishing getting things out of the oven. But all is well, dear. We're looking forward to having our girl home for break."

She closes her eyes for a moment, enjoying the comfort of hearing her dad's voice.

"I'm excited to see you guys too. I miss you so much," she admits, swallowing thickly. "I can't believe I only have a week and a half until my first semester is over."

"The older you get, the faster time passes," her dad muses, and she can just imagine the silly smile on his face as he said it.

"I'm glad I get to be home in time for the end of Hanukkah with you both. I hate that I only get to celebrate the last two days of it with you, but it's better than nothing, I suppose."

She hears the clink of silverware being placed on the table as her dad likely moves through the kitchen.

"Daddy says we'll have to cheat and wait until you get home to light the first seven candles all together on Saturday. He refuses to light any of them without you."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her head in surprise. "You will do no such thing!" she replies indignantly, and her dad laughs.

"I know honey, I'm just teasing. We will of course observe all of our usual traditions despite your absence."

She can't help the frown that spreads onto her face at the thought of not getting to be with her dads for the full eight days of the holiday this year. It's not like they ever did anything super extravagant, but they still had their traditions and she knows that she'll be missing out on some of them this year.

"You better," she warns, and she can't help the smile that flickers across her face when her dad laughs again.

"I'm glad you brought up Hanukkah, Rachel. Because that's part of the reason why I'm calling. In addition to loving you dearly and wanting to hear your voice, of course," he assures, and her smile widens.

"What about Hanukkah?" she asks, sitting up on her bed and turning to lean back against the wall.

"Daddy and I have been thinking about something for a little while. A  _gift_  type of something. Normally we would try to keep it a surprise for you, but this time we can't. This is a gift that we kind of have to ruin the surprise for if we want to be able to do it. We need to know if it's something you'd even want."

"What do you mean?" she asks curiously, her interest piqued. "What kind of gift is it?"

"We understand if you decide you want to spend as much time in Lima as you can to catch up with friends and such. But we thought you might enjoy going back to the city earlier instead."

"Why?" she asks, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"How do you feel about being back in the city for New Year's Eve?"

Her mouth hangs open for a moment before she lets out a high-pitched squeal. "Are you  _serious_?"

She hears her dad laugh lightly at her excitement. "Totally serious. We would pay the fee to swap your plane ticket for you to return to the city earlier and you would stay there for the remainder of break."

Her mind begins to flood with images of being in the city for that epic celebration, of possibly even getting to go to Times Square for the famous countdown. But just as quickly as the excitement begins to take over, she realizes a flaw in the plan.

"But Dad, Naomi is staying in Portland for the whole break. I know she's already got plans for the January part of break with some of her old friends."

Surprisingly, her dad doesn't seem to be deterred by this. "We thought about that already, Rachel. If you decide this is something you want, we thought maybe you could ask Quinn to join you. Since Naomi will be gone, you'll have a second bed in the room and then Quinn can just take the train to New Haven at the end of break."

Rachel's eyes widen as she thinks about her dad's idea that she hadn't even considered.

"You want me to spend the last week of winter break in New York City with Quinn?" Her mind is already reeling at the thought of them getting to spend time together like that, of having the opportunity to ring in the New Year together in the city.

"If that's what  _you_  want. It was just an idea that your Daddy and I had. Of course, we're in no hurry to cut our time short with you. We'd be more than happy to get to spend that last week with you, Rachel. But we thought New Year's Eve in the city might be a fun and special opportunity for you."

As much as she would enjoy getting to spend that time with her dads, she knows this opportunity is one that she doesn't want to pass up. It holds so many possibilities that already have her fidgeting with excitement.

"That sounds amazing, Dad! I'll have to ask Quinn. But if she agrees, I would love to do that. Thank you," she says sincerely, once again grateful for having such wonderful parents.

"Of course, sweetheart. If you could talk to Quinn soon so that we can figure out your plane ticket, we'd appreciate it."

"She's busy with finals preparation right now, but I'll try calling her as soon as we're done talking."

"Perfect. I think we're going to eat dinner now, but Hiram says he'll call you tomorrow on his lunch break so that you two can chat longer. He's been hungry for the past hour and I don't think you want to deal with talking to him right now," he jokes, and she can hear her daddy voice his agreement in the background.

"Hi, darling," Hiram says, taking the phone. "He's right, we'll chat more tomorrow. But everything is alright?"

"Yes, Daddy, everything's good."

"Wonderful. Have a good night, Rachel. And good luck with studying. Love you!"

"Love you too, Daddy!" she answers, and then the call is disconnected by her dads a moment later.

She drops her phone to the bed, tilting her head back against the wall. It takes her several seconds of staring at the ceiling before she really comprehends what just happened.

Her dads are offering to let her come back to the city early during break.

She might get to spend New Year's Eve in New York City with her best friend. Her best friend who has been the source of a lot of confusion in her life lately, but still.

As soon as the thought fully registers in her mind, she grabs her phone again. She needs to call Quinn.


	43. Chapter 43

Quinn doesn't answer when she dials the phone, which isn't exactly surprising. Finals preparation must really be piling up by now. Still, she feels a twinge of disappointment that she'll have to wait to share her news. She leaves a brief voicemail, telling Quinn to call her as soon as she gets a chance because she needs to talk about something with her. Nothing bad or worrying, just something that's on a bit of a time crunch.

After she finishes leaving the message, she resumes the episode of Friends that she started before her dad called. It isn't until about half an hour later, when she's mindlessly browsing the internet, that she receives a text message.

_Hi Rach. Sorry I missed your call. I'm in desperate need of a study break right now if you want to skype for just a bit and you can tell me what's up._

She taps the button to reply, logging on to skype as she does so.

_**I'm logging on right now :)** _

There's already a little green check mark next to Quinn's name when the program loads, and Quinn dials her a moment later when the online checkmark appears by her name as well.

Quinn's face fills a section of her laptop screen, and she can tell that Quinn must be in a study room somewhere.

"Hey there, study bug. Where are you?"

"The library," Quinn grumbles, even as she smiles at the silly nickname. "How are you, Rach?"

Quinn's hair is pulled back in a ponytail, slightly longer since she hasn't gotten it cut all semester, and she's wearing the same Yale sweatshirt that she was wearing in the picture that she sent the other day.

"I'm good. Not nearly as stressed as you, I'm sure. I have a pretty easy finals period aside from completing my musical."

"Not fair," she answers, pouting a little. "Finals at McKinley were never this bad, even with all the AP exams. I feel like I'm drowning in 1600s literature."

Rachel gives her a sympathetic smile and encourages, "It will all be over soon, and then we'll be back in Lima."

"Oh, joy. That'll be my reward for getting through finals. Three full weeks stuck with my parents. I'd almost rather have finals for a month."

Rachel's eyes widen a little and she frowns. She had been so caught up in all the good things about spending time back in Lima that she hadn't even considered how much Quinn might be dreading it.

"This might work out really well," Rachel realizes, muttering to herself.

"What're you talking about?" Quinn questions, resting her chin on her knee.

"Sorry. I just…I hadn't even thought about how much you might not want to be back in Lima. But, I have a bit of a solution for you."

Quinn quirks her eyebrow in interest, silently encouraging her to continue.

"My dads called a little while ago and told me about something they want to do as a gift for Hanukkah."

" _Okay_ ," Quinn answers slowly, waiting for her to explain.

"They want to let me come back to the city early. A little over a week early, to be exact," Rachel begins, building up to the reveal.

Quinn huffs impatiently, giving her a look, and Rachel smiles.

"They offered to let me come back to the city for New Year's Eve, Quinn. And they want you to come with me."

Quinn stares, leaning forward in her chair.

"Wait- what?"

Rachel nods excitedly, smile widening. "Naomi is staying in Portland the whole break, and I wouldn't want to come by myself. I think it would be  _so_  much fun, plus you'll have a bed to use since Naomi will be gone. I'll have to check with her, but I doubt she'll care."

"You're serious about this?" Quinn asks, surprise beginning to morph into excitement.

"Completely. If you agree to it, then my dads are going to switch my airline ticket. You would switch yours as well, and then take the train or bus or whatever back to New Haven when the semester starts."

Quinn looks at her silently for several seconds before a broad smile breaks out on her face.

"I'm in."

" _Yes!_ " Rachel squeals, bouncing in her seat. "But wait, don't you need to ask your parents first?"

She watches as the happiness briefly flickers out of Quinn's eyes, gaze hardening.

"They won't care. As long as I'm home for Christmas and fulfill all of my family obligations, they won't care where I am after that."

"Family obligations?" Rachel asks hesitantly, frowning.

"We always host a couple of big dinner parties during the holidays. Other relatives visit, and people from my church too. As long as I play perfect daughter and brag a bit about Yale, they'll be satisfied."

"That's stupid," Rachel replies bluntly, and Quinn cracks a smile.

"That's the Fabrays."

"So you'll come to back to New York with me?" she asks, hope threatening to burst forth.

"I'll call the airline this weekend to get my flight rearranged."

Quinn gives her a gentle smile, a few loose strands of blonde hair sweeping onto her face, and Rachel's stomach flutters.

Well  _that's_  new.

She looks at those hazel eyes on her screen and her mind races with the thoughts that have been at the back of her mind since Monday. Thoughts of soft lips and possibilities and the newfound uncertainty that accompanies it all.

Quinn's lips quirk up in a confused smile.

"Where did you just go?" she muses, lifting her eyebrow slightly.

"I…what?" Rachel answers quickly, clearing her throat.

"You totally spaced out on me," Quinn laughs, then shakes her head. "Anyway, yes, I'll get my ticket sorted out and you can tell your dads that I'm coming back to the city with you."

Rachel blushes and then nods, silently shaking her mind away from whatever just transpired. She has absolutely no idea what to do with these new thoughts so she files them away for later investigation.

"We're doing this? We're spending the last week of break in New York together?" she questions, no longer fighting to contain her smile.

"We are. We'll have to decide if we want to do Times Square or something different. Ooh, and I can finally check out the Met like I've been wanting to!"

Rachel laughs warmly and Quinn bites her lip, ducking her head in slight embarrassment.

"God, that was lame," Quinn chastises herself, and Rachel rolls her eyes. She sort of loves that Quinn has such a thing for art museums, and it's even more endearing to see how shy she is about it.

"You're going to drag me through museums for seven days, aren't you?" Rachel teases, just to see how she'll react. She expects Quinn to deny it, but instead she cringes a little, looking up sheepishly.

"Well…I still haven't been to the Guggenheim yet either. And MOMA has their separate location for certain art installations at PS 1."

"I'm taking that as a  _yes_ ," Rachel grins. "It's fine as long as I get to check some stuff off my list too."

"Deal," Quinn answers, finally smiling back. "I should probably get back to work now, even though I'd rather talk to you." She looks with a grimace at the books littered around her on the desk in her study room.

"I understand. I know things are kind of crazy for you right now. We'll work out the details once we're on break. Good luck on your exam prep!"

"Wait, don't hang up yet!" Quinn answers quickly, leaning forward a little in her chair. "Make sure you check your mail tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure you don't check it every day so I want to make sure."

Rachel lifts her eyebrows, waiting for Quinn to provide a further explanation for the random shift in conversation. When she doesn't provide one, Rachel stares back in confusion.

"Why? Should I be expecting something?"

Quinn's eyes sparkle with a well-kept secret and she shrugs noncommittally, keeping a straight face.

"Just check your mail tomorrow. Please."

"Quinn Fabray, you know I have no patience for surprises. What are you hiding?"

Quinn shrugs again, biting on her lip and refusing to offer up an answer.

"Fine. But if I happen to text you twelve times tomorrow to try to get some answers out of you, I can't be held responsible. You know the risk of trying to keep surprises from me."

'Yes, you become scary neurotic Rachel," Quinn agrees, and then sticks her tongue out in jest when Rachel scowls.

"Meanie."

"Uh-huh. We'll see if you still think I'm a meanie tomorrow afternoon. Until then, I'm going to get back to work."

Rachel rolls her eyes but smiles, and Quinn smiles in return.

"Goodnight, Quinn! Love you."

Quinn's smile widens and she ducks her head bashfully before looking back up at her webcam again.

"Love you, too," Quinn murmurs, making no effort to hide the pure honesty in her words. "Bye, Rach."

Rachel feels her heart thrum briefly in her chest, and Quinn disconnects the skype call. There's one thing that she's come to learn will captivate her every single time-

Unguarded, honest Quinn.

When Quinn meets her eyes and says things without any effort to mask a part of herself, it completely unhinges her. Quinn spent so much time hiding behind carefully crafted walls that when she lets those walls fade, it's impossible not to be drawn in. Even when they were back at McKinley, it was the same way. Quinn would look at her with raw emotion and let Rachel actually  _see_  her, and she would take a step closer without even realizing it.

The moments used to be so rare, something to grasp onto during the lengthy bouts of time in between when Quinn would push those walls up tall again and barricade herself in. But ever since they became friends, those moments have become far more frequent.

She thought that her reactions would have adjusted to the frequency, that her mind and her heart would become acclimated to this genuine side of Quinn. But that hasn't happened.

It's exactly the same every single time. Honest words and honest emotions. One step closer.

**XXxxXX**

She arrives at her intro acting class on Friday a little early because she was already on that side of campus, and she sets her stuff down by her seat in the nearly empty lecture hall. She doodles idly in her notebook for a couple minutes before she feels someone sit in the seat next to her and she looks up.

"Hi, Heejin," Rachel greets with a smile. "How are you?"

"Ready to be done with this class for the semester. You?" Heejin answers with a laugh, pulling her notebook out of her bag.

"Things are going pretty well for me. I turned in the rough draft of my musical, which was a huge relief. I still have to make edits and work on the final draft, but the bulk of the work is done."

"Is this the same play you were telling me about during midterms?"

Rachel nods, setting her pen down. "Yes, it's the same one."

"I remember you telling me about it. The story about the popular girl bullying another girl in high school because she secretly had feelings for her. Right? That was the story? Or am I totally off and thinking of something different?"

Rachel smiles and agrees. "No, you're right. That was the story."

"Did you still want me to take a look at the script? It sounds like you're pretty comfortable with what you submitted, but I'd be happy to give it a read through if you want a final opinion."

"You want to read it?" Rachel blinks in surprise. Most people are so distracted by their own work this time of year that she's caught off guard by Heejin's offer.

"Sure! Like I said, I was really intrigued by the premise of the story. I'm interested to read it if you're still okay with that."

"Wow, okay, yes absolutely! My final draft is due in a week, next Friday. So maybe if you want to look through it over the weekend? I completely understand if you don't get through the whole thing. You can always just tell me about the parts that you were able to get through."

Heejin pulls out a pen, scribbling a note on the edge of a piece of paper.

"Here's my email address. If you send it to me, I'll read through it on my computer. There's no point is printing out all those pages unless you have to."

Rachel accepts the paper and reaches into her backpack, pulling out her laptop.

"I'll send it to you now since we still have a couple minutes," Rachel explains, while a lot more students begin to filter into the lecture hall. "And actually, I should send you the playlist too, so you can have a better concept of the tone of the songs and how they fit."

"Cool! Speaking of which, what style of music did you go with for this play? I know you're a Broadway person, but is this Broadway style?"

Rachel clicks through her playlist folder and opens up her email while she answers Heejin's questions.

"There's a lot of different music that's used on Broadway, so it would be hard to say if it was Broadway  _style_. But if you're asking if it's that more classic musical theater style, it's not. I actually used alternative and independent artists for the track-list."

Rachel looks up from her computer screen and is met with a look of surprised interest.

"Like what?"

"The Civil Wars, Tyrone Wells, Passion Pit," Rachel lists, and Heejin's eyebrows raise.

"Okay, I  _so_  would not have guessed that. Is that the kind of music you usually listen to?"

Rachel shrugs her shoulders, smiling a little. "Sometimes. My best friend, Quinn, she listens to all of that stuff. She shares her music with me. I've come to love several of the artists though, and I do listen to them."

"I'm officially excited to read this," Heejin states, making her laugh lightly.

"I'm excited that you're excited," Rachel smiles. "And thank you for doing this. I really do appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

Rachel turns to look at the front of the classroom and watches her professor approach the lectern.

"Ugh, here we go," Heejin mutters, and Rachel laughs quietly, muffling the noise against her hand.

She definitely agrees with Heejin on this one. She'll be glad when this class is over for the semester.

**XXxxXX**

According to the student who works at the front desk of her dorm, the mail usually arrives by four in the afternoon. So at 3:45, when her impatience finally gets the best of her, she walks down to the lobby and asks if she has any new mail.

The person who is working the afternoon shift, a guy this time, checks the small slot for her and Naomi's room. All she sees is a slip of paper in there. But then the guy pulls out the paper, and looks over at her.

"You have a package that came for you today. Hang on, let me grab it for you," he says, reaching back behind a closed off area where they store stuff. Rachel watches him disappear behind the partition, and is itching with curiosity when he returns with a modestly sized box. It's not huge by any means, but it still looks like it could hold several things.

"What are you up to, Quinn?" she mumbles to herself as the guy asks her to sign off on the package. She scribbles her signature on the page and accepts the box with a quick thank you, heading back towards the elevators.

The box isn't heavy, but she can feel the contents shifting around inside, suggesting that there are multiple things within the box. Nothing about the outside gives any indication of what it contains, and she bounces on her toes while the elevator ascends, ready to open the box and figure out what's going on.

Naomi isn't there when she pushes the door open, and she moves straight toward her desk to grab a pair of scissors. The box is well taped and it takes her several moments to finally get it completely opened.

She sits at her desk, pulling the lid open, and sees several individual components of different sizes that are wrapped in blue tissue paper. Nestled on top of them is a white envelope with a scrawled note across the front that says, " _Read this first!_ "

As she looks at the different items wrapped inside of the box, she finally makes the connection of what this is about. But she rips open the envelope to confirm it, and is met with a lengthy note from Quinn.

_Rachel,_

_Happy almost Hanukkah! If you're getting this box when I anticipated, Hanukkah should be starting tomorrow evening. I've included seven different small gifts, one for each of the seven days. The eighth day is the day that I return to Lima, so I'll be able to give you your last gift in person._

_Before you start stressing about how much time this took or how much money I spent, don't. This is something that I wanted to do_ _ last _ _Hanukkah, but things were still kind of awkward between us and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable by doing all of this when we were barely used to calling each other friends. I've thought about these gifts for a while, and I gradually collected them. All I really had to do was wrap them and send the box. As for spending money on you, you'll discover that most of the things in this box are silly and not at all extravagant. So_ _ please _ _don't worry about it, okay?_

_I know you're disappointed that you don't get to spend the entire holiday with your dads, so I wanted to do something fun for you. Have a happy Hanukkah, Rachel!_

_Love,_

_Quinn_

_P.S. You better not open these gifts early! One each day during the evening, just like you would do at home. I'll know if you open them early._

_P.P.S. Hanukkah is from the 8_ _th_ _to the 16_ _th_ _which is eight days, but it's technically nine evenings if you count it out. Kind of confusing. Anyway, skip next Saturday, ok? I'll give you gift 8 when I see you on the 16th._

Rachel smiles as she reads through the letter, and then scans through it a second time just to take it all in. Quinn assembled a Hanukkah package for her. She actually collected different gifts and sent them together, complete with small labels that say which day each gift is for.

There's a part of her that wants to feel a little guilty that Quinn is doing this when they both know how Quinn feels. Quinn is in love with her, and that has to be part of what motivates her to do something like this. But it's also clear that Quinn made an effort to down play it as much as possible in her letter. She's planned on doing this for a long time, so it's not a big deal.

Except it  _is_  a big deal. Quinn collected Hanukkah gifts  _throughout_  the year for her, and even if Quinn says they're silly, she knows there will be significance to each one.

Rachel reaches for her phone, pressing the correct speed dial number and lifting the phone to her ear. It rings a couple of times before Quinn answers.

"Hey, Rach."

"You shouldn't have done all of this for me," she says in greeting, bypassing all introductions.

Quinn is silent for a moment and then, "…you got my package."

Rachel nods to herself, looking at the wrapped contents of the box.

"Yes. I just finished reading your letter."

"Look, I…it's not a big deal, alright? I wanted to do something fun for you since I knew you'd still be in New York for most of the holiday."

She already sounds defensive, and Rachel frowns guiltily.

"Quinn…"

"You're my best friend. You're  _constantly_  reminding me that we're best friends. I know, okay? I'm very much aware of where our relationship stands. You've made that pretty clear. I don't have to be in love with you to want to send you Hanukkah gifts, Rachel."

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut as Quinn voices her response. Her chest pangs at the way that Quinn says best friend, like it's something to settle for rather than something to celebrate. She knows that this has been hard for Quinn. No matter how much they hang out and laugh together, there is still the part of Quinn that's not satisfied. There's that part of Quinn who wants  _more_. They're learning how to be comfortable around each other again. What they're not learning is how to deal with the constant knowledge and awareness of Quinn's feelings that hangs between them.

"I'm sorry, you're right," Rachel falters, swallowing thickly. "I'm planning on giving you a Christmas gift, and this can be like that. It's really sweet of you that you're doing it for the holiday that I observe."

Quinn is quiet for several seconds before she hears her exhale slowly.

"When all is said and done, Rachel, I will do things for you because you're my friend and I love you. You have to trust that you are deserving of  _friends_  who will do stuff like this for you, not just people that you think want something from you. That's something that I struggle with all the time, because for so long the people who did nice things for me were the people who wanted things. Do I wish that we could be something more? Yes, and I'm finally in a place where I can acknowledge that. But that's not why I'm doing this. I'm not trying to win you over. I'm not trying to change the circumstances. I'm doing this because you're my friend and I like making you happy."

Leave it to Quinn to highlight everything that she was silently worrying about and try to dispel all of it. The worries are still there, but at least she knows that Quinn is aware of them and trying to move past it. She knows that this is still hard for  _both_  of them, even though they've made great strides in repairing their friendship.

Rachel inhales a slow breath, relaxes the tension in her body, and then changes to a more light-hearted tone.

"So…what did you get me?" Quinn is quiet for a moment, but she can imagine her rolling her eyes and trying not to smile.

"No way. You have to wait and find out. I'm not ruining any surprises."

" _Please_? Just one? One out of seven. That doesn't spoil anything  _that_  much."

"You're ridiculous," Quinn laughs.

"You're unreasonable," she grumbles in return, pouting despite the fact that it's useless when they're eighty miles apart.

"At least you're not calling me a meanie like you were yesterday. You still think I'm mean?" Quinn teases, and Rachel smiles.

"No. I think you're wonderful and totally  _not_  mean for doing this for me. I'm excited to open all of them!"

"Good. I'm glad you're excited. I'm excited for you to finally open them! Hey, listen, I have to get over to the library for my study group. But I'm sure we'll talk soon once you start opening your gifts. Just know that I won't always be able to answer the phone because next week is all finals week," Quinn reminds, so that Rachel won't think Quinn is ignoring her or anything.

"I know, Q. I'll probably text you and then you can let me know when you're available. Thank you for the mystery presents!"

"You're welcome, Rach," she answers sweetly. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye, Quinn."

After she hangs up the phone, she pulls the various labeled contents from the box. She may not be allowed to open them yet, but she can at least try to guess their contents based on size, weight, and texture.

Quinn never prohibited anything about guessing.

**XXxxXX**

The following evening, she's eating dinner in the dining hall when her phone beeps with a new text message. She expects it to be Quinn, or maybe Naomi letting her know when she'll be home, but instead she sees Heejin's name pop up on her screen.

She clicks to open the message and sees a long text, split up between a few messages.

_Hi Rachel! I read your musical this afternoon and it was AMAZING. It honestly blew my mind. I'll email you a few little things that I noticed for your final draft. But I was wondering if I could let a friend of mine read it as well. She's a senior in the musical theater program here. She may have some better comments than me. Also I really want her to be able to see it._

Rachel reads through the text, smiling at Heejin's approval, and then looking with interest at her request to share the draft. She's surprised that Heejin even knows a senior in her program, let alone someone that she knows well enough to talk to about her rough draft. She doesn't want to pass up the opportunity to have an upperclassmen in her program read through her musical, but she's unsure why Heejin wants to share it.

_**Thanks! I'm glad you liked it! I'm curious why you want to share it with that senior. I wouldn't mind as long as it only went to her but I'd like to know why you want to share it with her.** _

It takes a few minutes for Heejin to answer, and she looks through her emails while she waits for her to reply. A few minutes later, a new message comes through, and she quickly opens the alert to read it.

_I LOVED it. Rose is the student and I think she'd have some good comments for you. We know each other because we both participate in the comedy troupe. I can't really say anything else. Just trust me when I say that you want her to read your musical._

Rachel reads through her message, intrigued by whatever information Heejin seems to be reluctant to offer up. But she trusts her friend, and it could definitely be helpful to get an opinion from someone in her program.

_**Ok go ahead and send it to her. Let me know what she has to say though, please. :)** _

Heejin texts her back in agreement, and Rachel clears her tray, heading out of the dining hall to go back to the room. It's Saturday evening, which means that she's allowed to open her gift for day one now.

She reaches for the small cube wrapped in blue tissue paper marked 'Day 1' as soon as she gets back to the room and tears off the wrapping.

Underneath the tissue paper is a stack of pink post-its that have a cartoon strawberry on each of them in the corner. The strawberry has a little speech bubble that says ' _Berry awesome!_ ', and attached to the stack of post-its is a small note from Quinn.

_Get it? To write notes signed by the true Berry, who happens to be pretty awesome herself._

_Love, Quinn_

Rachel laughs, setting the stack of post-its down on her desk. It's so perfectly dorky and adorable and  _Quinn_  that she can't stop smiling. She reaches into her drawer and pulls out a pen, leaning over to write a message on the top note.

_I'm the most awesome Berry. I easily surpass all fruits._

She adds a small star sticker to the bottom of the post-it and then takes a picture of it on her cell phone to send the note to Quinn.

Quinn doesn't answer for nearly an hour. But when she does, it's with a solid two lines of ' _HAHAHA_ '.

Looks like day one made both of them laugh.

**XXxxXX**

Sunday evening, when she gets back from working on her play, Naomi is actually there to greet her.

"Hey, you. How are you? I feel like I've barely talked to you the past few days," Rachel addresses, setting her backpack down next to her desk.

Naomi sits up a little from her spot on her bed, stretching her arms up over her head.

"I'm good. I've practically been living in the studio. But I have the rest of the night to chill, which is nice. How 'bout you?"

"Things are going well. I did a bit of editing on my musical today. We're supposed to get feedback on our rough drafts tomorrow. Ooh, I have to tell you about what Quinn sent yesterday!" Rachel shares, grabbing the box off of her desk.

"Is that who the box is from? I was wondering what was up with that," Naomi comments, inspecting the contents of the. "Is this for Hanukkah?"

Rachel looks up, meeting her blue eyes as her brow furrows.

"You know that it's Hanukkah?"

Naomi smiles, nodding. "I found out today. A girl who was in the studio with me is Jewish and she was talking about it. I may have made a little something for our room today."

Rachel looks around their room for a moment before following her roommate's line of sight to their door. She didn't notice it when she entered the room, because it was concealed on the back of the door, and she closed the door without looking behind her.

But attached to their door is a simple blue outline of a menorah. It looks like it was painted using various shades of blue and then cut from the thick cardstock that it was painted on.

"What is this?" Rachel questions, turning back to Naomi with a confused smile.

" _Well_ ," Naomi drawls, "I wanted to get us a legit menorah, but then I remembered the stupid fire code and I don't think our RA would be very happy to smell burning candles coming from our room. Don't want to burn down the dorm and all that." Naomi explains and rolls her eyes, making Rachel laugh. "But I still wanted to have something in our room, so I did this instead."

Naomi reaches toward her own desk, reaching for a ziplock bag. She pulls out a small uneven oval shape of cardstock that is colored with a gorgeous combination of orange and yellow hues. There are several others in the bag just like it.

"They're flames. We can tape one up each night to add to it. Though I guess we'll have to do two tonight since we missed the first one, huh?"

Rachel's smile widens, and she reaches for the bag.

"This is unbelievably sweet of you. But, we don't have to do this. I know you don't believe in God, and-"

"I believe in tradition," Naomi interjects, giving her a wry smile. "I believe in the importance of acknowledging the traditions that matter to us. And I know this is a tradition that matters to you. So I'm totally cool with our menorah. I promise."

She sets the bag of paper flames down on her own desk and then extends her arms toward her roommate, wrapping the taller girl in a hug.

"Thank you," she murmurs into her shoulder, and Naomi smiles against the side of her hair, arms loosely encircling her back.

"You're welcome." She squeezes her arms just once and then steps back, looking down at the box that Rachel set on the floor. "So what did Quinn send you?"

"So far? A stack of incredibly dorky post-it notes," Rachel laughs, handing over the stack for Naomi to see. Naomi glances down, looking at the little strawberry with the speech bubble, and lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my god. I underestimated Quinn and her sense of humor."

"Seems like she's always full of surprises," Rachel murmurs, more to herself, and Naomi lifts her eyebrow.

"Something to share?" she proffers, amused. Rachel shakes her head quickly and clears her throat, pushing away the flickering thoughts of confusion and doubt. "Mhm, fine," Naomi acquiesces. "You should open up your gift for today. Then we can light our menorah. Or…tape…you get the point."

Rachel laughs and reaches for the day two gift, the smallest of all the wrapped presents. When she pulls the paper away, there's a USB drive with a note attached.

_Not the most original gift, but it's been a while since I gave you a ton of new music and there's a bunch of artists that I've been wanting to share with you. Happy listening! Let me know what your favorites are so I can see if I guessed right._

_Love, Quinn_

"She gave you a USB drive? Are there naughty things on it?" Naomi questions, and Rachel shoves her shoulder. "Or maybe super-secret government information?"

"How did I get stuck with you?" Rachel mutters, and Naomi laughs harder. "It's  _music_ , thank you very much."

"Lame." Rachel scowls, but then Naomi smiles genuinely and adds, "You know I'm just kidding and giving you a hard time. Plug in the drive. Let's see what stuff she put on there."

She inserts the small drive in her computer, watching as over three hundred songs load.

"Damn," Naomi mutters, looking at the screen over her shoulder.

"I know. She usually gives me a lot of music, but she's never given me this many songs at once before."

"Well go ahead and put them on shuffle while they transfer over to your computer. Let's judge Quinn's taste in music while we add the flames."

Rachel laughs but listens to her, setting the whole list on shuffle as she stands up and brings the bag of paper flames with her.

"Here's the tape," Naomi offers, handing her a rolled piece to stick to the back.

An upbeat guitar song that's rich in sounds begins to play and she steps toward the door to add the first flame. She presses it into the door, making sure the tape sticks, before stepping back.

"I should say a blessing. None of this is quite in line with tradition, but I feel like I need to do a blessing, at least."

"Go for it," Naomi encourages, while the upbeat song continues to play in the background.

"Okay… _Barukh atah Adonai, Eloheinu,"_ she begins, using some of the traditional intonation while also weaving it into the guitar melody currently playing.

"What does that mean?" Naomi asks when she finishes, smiling gently.

"It means blessed are you God, sovereign of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion. We say it on the first night. Technically it's the second, but since that was the first flame…"

"It was beautiful. I didn't know you could speak any Hebrew."

"Just some of the blessings," Rachel replies, blushing a little.

When they add the second flame, she teaches Naomi the first line of the simple blessing. It takes her a few tries, but they laugh together and she appreciates her roommate's effort.

She steps over to her computer to see what song was just playing and finds out that it was by a band called Moonbabies.

"Are you kidding me, Quinn?" she laughs, and Naomi looks over to her.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Rachel answers, typing out a text. "Just Quinn picking the bands with the strangest names ever."

_I just 'lit' Hanukkah candles with Naomi to the Moonbabies. You listen to the weirdest bands ever._

A couple of minutes later, she receives a reply.

_**Omg... Mock the band name all you want, but you totally loved them didn't you?** _

… _yes._

It's definitely not the most traditional Hanukkah.

But given the current circumstances, she wouldn't have it any other way.


	44. Chapter 44

"You're drinking coffee," she acknowledges, glancing up from her notebook. Jordan pauses mid-sip and looks at her in disbelief.

"How could you tell?" he laughs, setting the cup down on their table. Most of the tables are set up similarly, students who are gathered around with books and laptops throughout the coffee shop.

"Because your tea always smells really good."

"Well unfortunately tea doesn't cut it for me during finals. I need the extra caffeine." Jordan pulls a thick textbook from his bag, setting it on the table with a thud. Quinn takes one look at the cover, sees something about parliamentary government systems, and wrinkles her nose.

"Yikes."

"I could say the same thing about this Shakespearean library you've got piled up on the table," Jordan tosses back, giving her a smile when Quinn rolls her eyes. "How are you feeling about your exam tomorrow?"

"Stressed," Quinn clips, rubbing at her eye with the palm of her hand. "Like no amount of preparation that I do is going to be good enough."

"We've all been there. Hell, sometimes I'm  _still_  there. But as much studying as you're doing, you just have to trust that you're more prepared than you feel like. Don't psych yourself out."

Quinn sighs, leaning forward to rest her forehead against the table with a groan. Her eyes are starting to hurt from all the reading she's done today, and she really needs to switch over to using her glasses for a little while even if she's still in public. Today has been nothing but a study day, since it was the first day of the finals period and she didn't have an exam. Her first exam is tomorrow, the final for her Shakespeare class, and her brain is so muddled with all of the different plays that she's starting to imagine some seriously twisted crossover conversations between Iago and Lady Macbeth.

"Uh-oh," Jordan mutters, and Quinn looks up at him blearily. "Incoming."

"Huh?" Quinn sits up, dazed, and turns around in her seat to follow Jordan's line of sight. There at the counter, placing her drink order with the barista and looking as casually sexy as ever, is Olivia. "Oh, crap."

She spins back around in her seat, cringing as she stares with burning focus at the table.

"Maybe she won't notice us," Jordan comments as Olivia waits for her coffee and glances around the room, doing a double take when she sees them. "Never mind."

"She sees us?" Quinn asks, not looking up and refusing to turn around.

"Mhmm," Jordan informs through his teeth, calm smile on his face as he nods in greeting at Olivia. Quinn sucks in a deep breath, trying to morph her facial features into something resembling relaxed indifference, and then turns around. She expects everything about this to be supremely awkward and she has no idea why Olivia would even bother approaching their table.

But then she actually meets the other girl's eyes and Olivia gives her a soft smile, completely devoid of tension. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun and a fuzzy cream-colored sweater hangs loosely around her shoulders. She looks completely relaxed and that alone puts Quinn more at ease.

"Hey, Q," she smiles, eyes locking onto hazel before she looks at the table's other occupant. "Jordan. How are you guys?" She speaks like she's talking to both of them, but everyone knows that the question is really directed at Quinn.

"I think my eyes are on fire," Quinn comments, and then gives her an easy smile. "I've been reading all day."

Olivia takes a step forward, smiling widening in response to Quinn's relaxed greeting, and lifts a book from the top of the stack. " _The Merchant of Venice_. I remember the whole 'pound of flesh thing' seriously weirding me out in high school."

Quinn laughs lightly, biting on her lip when no suitable response comes to her mind, and Jordan looks back and forth between them.

"Well I just came over here to wish you both happy holidays, since I probably won't see either of you again before break," Olivia says kindly, and Quinn clasps her hands tightly together. She knows that Olivia wants to say more, but Jordan is right there and the circumstances are less than ideal. They need privacy that they're not going to get. So she does the only thing she can think to do.

She stands from her chair and wraps her arms around Olivia, pulling her into a gentle hug. Olivia sinks into the embrace, wrapping her arms closely around Quinn's waist while she rests her cheek against Olivia's jaw on the side that Jordan can't see.

"Are we okay?" she asks quietly, voice laced with doubt, and Olivia grips her a little tighter.

"We're okay, Q," she whispers back, a steady reassurance before she steps out of the embrace and gives her a small smile. "You'll see me around next semester," she says, angling herself toward Jordan to include him in the conversation again. "Pride Alliance put me on the planning committee for Gay-pril."

"Awesome," Jordan grins, and Quinn looks between them with an arched eyebrow.

" _Gay-_ pril?"

They both laugh like it's some inside joke that she's not in on and then Olivia says, "I've got to get to my study group. Jordan, I'll let you fill her in."

She gives him a wink and then rests her hand gently on the edge of Quinn's shoulder. "Have a relaxing break, Quinn. See you in 2013!"

"Bye," Quinn answers, brows still furrowed in confusion as Olivia exits Woodland.

"It's Yale's Pride month. Some of the students jokingly call it Gay-pril since it takes place in April every year. Pride doesn't always like when we use that term because it really isn't inclusive of some of the LGBTQ community. Still, the nickname has sort of stuck."

Quinn gapes at him, eyes wide. "You have a Pride  _month_?"

"Yep. They have all sorts of events that are spread out. Guest speakers, dances, musical performances. And rainbows. Always lots of rainbows."

"That's insane," Quinn proclaims, and Jordan just smiles. She's about to say more when her phone buzzes against the table. A quick glance at the screen tells her that she has a new text from Rachel and she taps the screen to read the message.

_Thanks for the ground coffee from Woodland! Can't wait to try it in the morning :)_

She smiles at the message and then types out a reply.

_**I'm actually studying there right now. Hope you enjoy it! Happy day 3 :)** _

Jordan only has to look at her for a moment before he guesses on his own. "Rachel?"

"Yes," Quinn admits, blushing at how easily he assumed it.

"How are you two doing?"

"So much better. I feel like things are finally settling, like we're finding our footing again." She lifts her coffee cup, taking a slow sip while Jordan nods his head.

"What about you? Do you feel like you're ready to try dating other people next semester?" Jordan asks hesitantly.

Quinn immediately feels her stomach coil and an invisible weight pressing against her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head several times.

"Not yet," she whispers, blinking her eyes open to look at him with a pleading gaze. "I'm not ready."

"Hey hey, it's okay," Jordan assures quickly, grasping her hand and linking their fingers on top of the table. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I just want you to be happy, you know?"

"I know," she answers tremulously, inhaling a slow breath.

"When you are ready, you know I'll totally be your wingman."

Quinn gives him a watery smile and chokes out a short laugh. "Thanks."

Just because she's finally finding her footing again doesn't mean she's ready for a marathon. If her time with Olivia taught her anything, it's that she's not ready. She's not ready for _any_  of it.

She needs time. She just needs more time.

**XXxxXX**

Her gift for day four has been the source of more curiosity than all the others. The package is an oblong shape, but it's thin and very lightweight. She's been trying to guess what it could be for the past couple of days, but hasn't come up with anything.

That's why, as soon as she gets back from dinner, she gives Naomi a quick greeting and then grabs the wrapped gift from its spot on her desk.

"Someone's impatient," Naomi notes with a laugh, and Rachel sits on her bed with the gift in hand.

"I've been wondering about this one ever since the box came in the mail."

"It is a weird shape," Naomi agrees. "Well, let's see it. Open it up."

Rachel doesn't need any further encouragement and she rips through the blue tissue paper, pulling it aside to reveal what's underneath. She lets the paper fall and realizes that she's holding a wand, a silver sparkly wand with a symmetrical star at the top. A smile breaks out on her face even though she's still entirely confused, and she reaches for the note that's attached to it.

_For days when you feel too much like Elphaba and you need to channel Glinda. Wave your sparkly wand and ignore the foolish people who try to bring you down._

_Love, Quinn_

She grasps the note tightly in her hand, re-reading it until her vision starts to blur. Tears prick at her eyes and Naomi stands up worriedly, moving to sit down next to her.

"Rach, are you okay? What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, not quite able to form words yet, and looks back down at the note. There have always been moments where she feels the overwhelming need to wrap her arms around Quinn. Usually it's when she knows that Quinn needs her, needs to feel Rachel's arms wrapped securely around her waist in silent assurance that she's not alone. There' a difference between wrapping her arms around her best friend and hugging her. Hugging her implies that it's an isolated moment in time, a moment with an inevitable end where they separate and step apart. The difference is that when she wraps her arms around Quinn, it's with no conscious thought that at some point she'll have to let go. It's in those moments of overwhelming emotion, whether joyous or sad, that she wraps her arms around her best friend and thinks of nothing else.

This is the first time that she's ever felt that overwhelming need to  _hold_  Quinn when the girl is perfectly fine. Her heart thrums to reach out to her best friend, to pull her close and hold her until she understands all the thoughts racing through her mind that don't have words. It's just surging overpowering emotion ricocheting in a thousand different directions, fighting to get out and demonstrate itself in some tangible way.

"Rachel?" Naomi says again, gentler this time. She hands Naomi the note to read for herself and it's quiet for a moment before she admits, "I don't understand the reference."

In another situation, she might have the emotional focus to be shocked and appalled at Naomi's complete lack of Broadway knowledge. But right now all she can think about is Quinn and everything she wishes she had the words to say to her.

So instead she answers quietly, "It's from the Broadway musical  _Wicked_ , the one connected to the  _Wizard of Oz_  story. Elphaba eventually became the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda became Glinda the Good Witch. In the musical, Glinda is the beautiful popular one, and Elphaba frequently feels unattractive and disconnected from everyone else."

"Wow," Naomi exhales, looking down at the wand and back at the note in her hand. "That's…"

"Unbelievable," Rachel murmurs. "Quinn is unbelievable."

Naomi is quiet, unsure what else to say, and sets the note back in Rachel's lap.

"I love her, Naomi," Rachel murmurs, shattering the silence. "She's my best friend and I love her. But…"

Her heart thuds against its cage, pulse rattling in her body.

"But?"

"But I don't know what that means anymore," she whispers, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.

"Rach?" her roommate questions, trying to understand. Rachel inhales a shallow breath, leaning over to rest her head on Naomi's shoulder as a few tears leak out.

"She does things like this and it makes me want to hold her and never let go," she confides. "I don't understand. I…" Naomi reaches up, combing her fingers through Rachel's hair while she speaks. "What do you do when you don't know how you feel?"

Naomi continues tracing patterns through her hair, thinking about the question.

"You give yourself time... You let the confusion gradually settle, and then you see where things stand."

Rachel reaches down, gripping Naomi's hand in hers. "What if the confusion never settles?"

"It will," Naomi assures, and Rachel lets herself sink more heavily against Naomi's side.

"She got me a wand," Rachel says after a moment, staring at the sparkly object intently as if it holds the answers to all of her confusion.

"She got you a wand," Naomi agrees, smiling into her hair and squeezing her hand.

**XXxxXX**

It takes her three hours before she feels like she's ready to call Quinn. The fact that she's suddenly nervous to call her best friend makes her feel a little ridiculous, but all of the uncertainty from the last week has accumulated and now she's paralyzed by it.

When she does finally work up the nerve to call, Quinn sounds like she's on the verge of sleep. She admits that she only got a couple of hours of sleep the night before and she's going to bed early tonight. She'd rather get some rest and study all morning tomorrow.

Rachel murmurs, "I opened your gift."

Quinn pauses before answering with a shy, "Did you like it?"

She imagines a thousand different ways to answer the question but every single reply gets caught in her throat.

"It was perfect," is what ultimately stumbles out of her mouth, and she swears she can feel Quinn smiling through the phone.

"I'm glad you liked it. Rach, I'm gonna go to bed now because I feel like I'm ready to pass out. I'd rather wake up at five and at least feel like my brain is functioning. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

None of this is okay. There's a chorus of confusion in her head just waiting to sing out, but the notes are all wrong and Quinn is oblivious to it.

"Okay. Sweet dreams, Q."

"G'night."

She pictures herself at Yale, whispering goodnight in person and drifting into dreams with her best friend curled up beside her. The fact that she aches for it is what scares her most of all.

**XXxxXX**

Her music theory final exam goes smoothly, and she's confident that she'll get an A for her final grade in the class. She exits the classroom and heads toward the library, ready to make edits to her musical now that she's gotten feedback from her professor and Heejin.

She goes to her favorite cubicle, the one in the corner by the window, and boots up her laptop. When she read the comments from her professor yesterday afternoon, she knew that she had done as good of a job as she thought. Most of his comments were positive, and he even admitted that she would have received a high B if she had submitted it as her final draft. His main focus for improvement was on the musical scenes. She reopens the feedback section of the online homework site to read his exact wording.

_Since you aren't using original music for this assignment (and I wouldn't expect you to), it's important that you don't rely on the lyrics too much. Lyrics that weren't written specifically for this story can only say so much. Try to provide more stage direction and insight into the emotional climate of the scenes so that an actor would have a better idea of your vision. Fantastic job though, Rachel. Truly._

Heejin's notes were similar. She said that since so much is left unsaid between the two girls in the story, it's really important to have adequate stage direction so that the actors have a good idea if what's going on emotionally.

So that's her focus for this afternoon.

She doesn't know if she'll hear from that senior Rose, so she's going to proceed as if she doesn't expect to hear back from her. Seniors are notoriously busy this time of year, and she doesn't want to rely on receiving her feedback.

She scrolls through the document of her musical until she gets to the scene where her character, Lily, sings  _Landfill_  by Daughter. She focuses on trying to absorb the lyrics as an outsider who is unaware of this story, and begins to add stage directions as needed.

She reads through the final lines of the chorus,  _"I want you so much, but I hate your guts. I hate you,"_ and immediately understands what her professor means.

She needs to clarify for the hypothetical actor that Lily never actually hated Monica. She was just so constantly hurt by her actions that she  _wanted_  to hate her because hate is easier to bear than hurt.

It's ironic, she thinks, that she and Quinn spent so much time in high school thinking that they hated each other when neither of them ever really did.

Hate is easier to comprehend; it cuts through a relationship and leaves a bold mark, simple in its intention. It was never really about hate.

It was about many other emotions that were far more difficult to discern.

**XXxxXX**

When she gets back to her room that night, there's a note from Naomi on her desk telling her that she'll be at the studio until late. So she grabs another paper flame from the bag and tapes it to their menorah on her own. Five flames, which means three more days until she goes home on Saturday and four more days until she sees Quinn.

She steps back over to her desk, lifting up the gift for day five. It's a square box, so feather-light that she wonders how there could even be anything inside. When she rips the paper away, she sees that the box is plain white and was just used to store whatever is inside. She lifts the lid of the small box and finds a cream-colored piece of paper, intricately folded to resemble a flower with a few green pieces connected as leaves. She pulls it out of the box delicately, resting it in the palm of her hand while she reaches back into the box for the accompanying note.

_I've owed you a gardenia since junior prom. I would have sent you a real one but I was afraid it would wilt too much. Hopefully you'll consider this hand-made paper one an equal trade._

_Love, Quinn_

She reads through Quinn's note, and then immediately re-reads it, eyes widening impossibly.

Quinn knows that she picked out her corsage from Finn for junior prom. Quinn  _knows_. She spent so much time debating whether or not she should tell Quinn, both right after the dance and then multiple times once they became close friends. But the more time passed, the more it seemed like a silly thing to bring up. What benefit would be gained by telling Quinn?

But apparently Quinn has known all along, or at least for quite a while.

She reaches for her phone, dialing Quinn's number as she sets the paper flower down gently on her desk. It rings four times before Quinn answers, breathless, explaining, "Sorry, I just got out of the shower. My phone was ringing when I walked in the door. Hi, Rach."

"Hi," Rachel smiles, relaxing back on her bed. "I can call you back in a few minutes if you need to change and stuff."

"Nah, I'll be fine in my robe for a little while," Quinn answers, and her mind flashes to her best friend lying down on her own bed, clad in her fuzzy robe and hair wet from the shower. Her thoughts momentarily short-circuit until Quinn asks, "Am I to assume that you've opened day five?"

Rachel clears her throat, forcing her thoughts into focus. "Mhm. How long have you known about the corsage?"

Quinn laughs warmly, breath coming in short bursts through the speaker. "I've known since the night of the dance."

Her mind races through memories of that night, trying to remember if Quinn gave any indication that she knew. She draws a complete blank.

"How did you find out?" Rachel asks curiously, head sinking back into her pillow while she stares up at the ceiling.

"I found out later that night. I met up with Finn at his house after I lost prom queen. He went home after he got kicked out. Anyway, we were arguing of course, yelling back and forth. I was furious at him for ruining everything that I worked so hard to build up. The guy I was with wanted the girl I was in love with and, well, it was just a train wreck. I told him it was pretty pathetic that my favorite part of the night was when he gave me my corsage."

Rachel inhales a sharp breath, letting her eyes slip shut as she anticipates whatever Quinn is about to share.

"He gave me this blank look and then stared at the ground like he was guilty of something. I demanded to know what that was about and finally he looked up at me and told me he didn't pick out my corsage. It was a total let down, and I figured Sam or Mike or someone must have done it for him. But then he starts stuttering about how you talked to him by the lockers at school, how you told him to get me a gardenia, that you even picked the ribbon color."

Rachel bites on her tongue, fighting not to say anything until Quinn finishes her story. She wants to apologize, to say she was stupid for meddling and not knowing when to leave well enough alone.

"I remember I just started crying. I started crying and I couldn't stop. Finn's face was pale and he kept apologizing over and over, and he didn't even realize that I wasn't crying because I was upset. I was crying because I was happy and also just really overwhelmed."

"Why?" Rachel breathes, listening intently.

Quinn pauses for a few seconds, as if she's debating how much she really wants to share, before she continues.

"Rach, you have to understand that at that point I had given up on everything involving you and me. It seemed like you resented me so much for getting Finn back, and I knew we could never be  _anything_  with him standing in between us. We had our one shining moment of doing a duet together, and I thought that was it. I thought that was the closest I would ever get to being your friend and being a part of your life. So then I'm in this argument with Finn and I'm looking down at the gorgeous flower on my wrist, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that it came from  _you_. After everything that had happened between us in those months, the flower came from you."

She had no idea. All this time, and she had absolutely no idea how much significance Quinn had attached to such a simple gesture.

"I still cared about you, you know. I always cared about you," Rachel states quietly, and she hears Quinn's breath catch.

"Which is why I've owed you a gardenia," Quinn replies, re-directing the conversation. "Our relationship was on shaky ground then, but you picked out that flower and it felt like things stabilized just a fraction. Things have been a little shaky with us these past months, so I thought it was a time to return the gesture."

"A gardenia to establish solid ground," Rachel smiles, and Quinn laughs lightly.

"Something like that."

**XXxxXX**

Naomi notices the paper flower on her desk the next morning and gives her a questioning glance, but Rachel shrugs her shoulder and says she's going to go take a shower. She shares a lot of things with Naomi, but this is something that will be too difficult to explain.

Her play is due tomorrow morning, so she spends time throughout the day making the final touches and adding the rest of the necessary stage directions. When she gets back to their room after dinner, her musical is printed, resting in a folder in her backpack and ready to be turned in. The exhilarating feeling of accomplishment rushes through her, and she greets Naomi with a wide smile.

"I finished!" she squeals as soon as she walks through the door, and Naomi does a brief fist pump in the air.

"Congrats! Feel good to be done?"

"Like wouldn't believe. Are you finished with everything too?"

"Yup. Submitted my final compositions today. All I have to do tomorrow is pack and then my flight leaves Saturday morning."

Rachel drops her backpack to the ground and sits on her bed, legs crossed.

"It's going to be weird not seeing you for three weeks," Rachel comments, and Naomi ducks her head.

"I know, right? You're such a constant in my life now. I'm really excited to go home for a while though. I've been missing Portland like crazy."

"Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you about break, actually. I think I'll be returning to the city early for New Year's. They're re-opening the dorms on the 29th, and my dads offered to let me come back early."

"For real?" Naomi asks in surprise.

"Yes. And if it's okay with you, Quinn is going to come with me and stay here for a week."

Naomi quirks her eyebrow, holding back all the things she could say, and instead questions, "Why wouldn't I be okay with it?"

"I don't know. I assumed it would be fine. But Quinn would be using your bed for a week so I wanted to make sure," Rachel explains.

"That's totally fine. A whole week alone in the city together, huh?" Naomi quips, fighting off a smile.

"Shut up," Rachel mutters, blush creeping onto her face.

"What did I say?" Naomi questions, feigning innocence.

"It's the way you said it," she stresses, walking over to her desk again. "I'm going to open up day six."

"Fine fine, change the topic on me, see if I care," Naomi shrugs, giving her a knowing smile. "Let's see what Quinn has in store today."

Today's gift is larger than all of the others, though still relatively small in comparison to most objects. She tears off the wrapping paper and finds a stuffed animal bulldog with a Yale sweater on it, a soft plush animal with the most adorable face.

_To have a piece of Yale with you in New York. Did you know that our mascot is a bulldog? Oh, who am I kidding? I'm sure you know. I saw this in the bookstore and thought it was adorable. I'll let you be the one to name him._

_Love, Quinn_

"Look how cute it is!" Rachel exclaims, holding up the stuffed animal for her roommate to see. Naomi rolls her eyes and laughs, staring at the navy sweater attached to the dog.

"Only Yale would have such a classy tailored sweater on its mascot."

"I think his name will be Charles."

Naomi gives her the strangest look, something between disbelief and absolute amusement, and Rachel beams.

"Yes, definitely Charles," she affirms, setting the dog down by her pillow.

Naomi shakes her head and adds the sixth flame to the door.

**XXxxXX**

She gives the final copy of her musical to professor, who accepts it with a thank you and a kind smile.

It's done. A whole semester of thinking about this story, of reflecting on her past with Quinn, and now it's over. She feels a little bittersweet that it's reached its end. But more than anything, she feels proud.

The final result is amazing, and she knows it.

**XXxxXX**

She's known since she first rifled through the box of gifts that the gift for day seven was some kind of article of clothing. She could tell just by the shape and texture of it. So she isn't really surprised when she opens it and a t-shirt is inside. What  _does_  surprise her is that it's a bright red t-shirt with the logo for the William McKinley Cheerios emblazoned on it.

She reaches for the note attached to it and reads.

_You spent a lot of time wishing you were more popular in high school. I feel like the Cheerios always kind of symbolized that for you, like it was some kind of unattainable thing. But the truth of the matter is that it was quite ordinary. It was cheerleading. It was the part of my life that connected you to the intimidating and guarded side of me, and I wish I could change that. High school is over now and my Cheerios career is behind me, so this was the only small way I could think to bring you into that part of my life. I want you to see it for what it was- a sport that happened to have shallow social benefits at our school. So screw the hierarchy of it. Forget about the exclusivity. You've got an official team Cheerios shirt now that is all yours. You'll find there's really nothing extraordinary about it, though they are quite comfortable._

_Love, Quinn_

She can't help the bright smile on her face as she reads through Quinn's note, and she holds up the shirt for Naomi to see.

"She sent me a Cheerios t-shirt."

Naomi blinks, looking between Rachel's face and the shirt. "This is another one of those things that you're gonna have to explain."

Rachel bites her lip, holding the t-shirt against her lap.

"Let's just say that there was a time in high school when I would have given  _anything_  to be able to wear this, simply because of what it symbolized. Quinn knows that. We've both moved past that stupid high school popularity stuff, but she knows that it would have meant the world to me to have this. That part of her life was always closed off from me. This is her small way of making me a part of it now."

Her roommate looks at the t-shirt thoughtfully before meeting her eyes. "She loves you so much."

Rachel looks down at her lap, tracing the over the words on the shirt with her fingertips.

"I know, Naomi," she answers defensively, feeling that same invisible weight press against her chest. "I  _know_."

"Woah, hey, I didn't mean it like that. That was  _so_  not meant to be a guilt trip. I just meant that it's really rare to have someone care so completely like she does. You're lucky."

"Sorry," Rachel falters. "You- you're right. My head's kind of all over the place right now. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"I got an email today," Naomi answers, stepping over to her desk and making Rachel frown at the complete change in topic. Her roommate picks up her laptop and then carries it over, sitting next to Rachel on her bed and resting the computer on her lap. "The photographer, Tanner, from the day we did the paint project, he sent me pictures of it. He's going to send everyone more of the files later, but for now he sent us the ones that he's planning to submit for the gallery. There's one of you and Quinn," she explains, and now Rachel understands why Naomi brought this up. "It's…well, I'll let you see for yourself."

Naomi clicks through different files on her computer until she finds the right one, enlarging the photo on her screen. There she stands with Quinn, surrounded by a sea of chaotic color while everything about their stance is peaceful. She's got her arms around Quinn in the photograph, and the angle of the picture was taken so that it captures their profiles as they look at each other. She had already hugged Quinn in this moment and had just stepped back, arms still linked around her. In a backdrop of absolute chaos, they are looking at each other with complete calm. Gentle smiles mirror each other, oblivious to the explosion of color around them. It's… _intimate_. Strikingly so.

She forces her gaze away from the photograph, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Can you close it?" she pleads, voice wavering. "Please just close the file."

What was it that Naomi said about overwhelming confusion? That it gradually settles. The clamoring thoughts slow down and you begin to make sense of things. But what if it doesn't settle gradually? What if reality presses down all once, stripping away the uncertainty and leaving the truth bared.

"Rachel?"

She shakes her head silently, tears leaking out from behind closed eyelids. Naomi shifts next to her and then she feels warm arms encircle her, holding her close. It's strange, she thinks, that the moment when someone is holding her together is when she absolutely breaks.

Her whole body shakes as tears spill out, and Naomi clutches her tighter. This can't be happening. Not now. Not after everything they've been through. Not after how much time they've spent meticulously piecing their friendship back together.

"Rachel?" Naomi entreats again, voice heavy with worry. " _Please_  tell me what's going on. You're scaring me."

It's the striking clarity of Naomi's worry and fear that pulls her briefly from the haze, and she blinks her eyes open, looking at her roommate through teary vision. She stares into kind blue eyes that are looking at with her so much concern, and lets the truth fall from her lips.

"I… I have feelings for Quinn."

She confesses it in a fragile whisper, as if she expects everything around her to suddenly shatter. Naomi's eyes widen, mouth dropping open slightly at Rachel's admission. They sit there, suspended in a moment of irrevocable change, and she looks to her roommate with pleading eyes.

"What am I going to do?" she splutters through tears. "I don't know what to do." Naomi holds the distraught girl against her, letting the tears soak through her t-shirt.

She thinks of sunshine blonde hair and brilliant hazel eyes, of gentle smiles that make her body thrum and hugs that make her never want to let go.

"Please just tell me what to do."


	45. Chapter 45

_ Please just tell me what to do. _

She looks out the window of her plane as it takes off from the tarmac and thinks about everything she talked about with Naomi yesterday.

Though Naomi had been a great comfort and support, she knew that her roommate didn’t understand why she was so upset. She didn’t blame Naomi. Most people would be confused by the situation. They would think-

 Isn’t it a good thing? Quinn is already in love with her. The path from here should be simple. 

But it’s not. They don’t understand how difficult it really is. Quinn has had _years_. She’s had years to adjust to being attracted to someone who eventually became her best friend. She’s learned how to live with those relational layers intricately woven together. She is aware of Rachel as her best friend, and simultaneously someone she is attracted to and loves romantically. The feelings evolved gradually, and then later on their friendship was slowly added to the mix. Quinn has struggled with it, but at least she’s had _time_.

She hasn’t had that same opportunity. Instead, the only thing she’s had time to settle into is their friendship. That has been her constant. Quinn said on the phone this past week that Rachel is continually reminding her that they’re best friends, that that’s where their relationship stands. 

Her close friendship with Quinn is the one thing she understands. It’s the one thing she has to cling to when everything else is uncertain. That’s why everything felt like it was imploding when their friendship was brought into question. She can deal with the lack of understanding surrounding their past, she can deal with the awkwardness of their current dynamic, as long as she knows that their friendship will ultimately stand strong. 

Friendship is their foundation, and for a while that’s worked. But what do you do when friendship no longer feels like enough?

The urge to be _closer_ \- emotionally, physically, everywhere- is overwhelming and refuses to be suppressed any longer. She wants to be closer, whatever that means for them, and Quinn thinks that she wants carefully measured distance. Quinn is deliberately erecting boundaries all while, for the first time, Rachel wants to tear those boundaries to the ground and build something entirely new amidst the rubble. But they have an indeterminate amount to gain and everything to lose. 

Just the _thought_ of losing Quinn if it doesn’t work out is enough to make her stomach clench painfully, and the need to have Quinn in some capacity threatens to drown out the desire for more. 

And that’s all on the assumption that her feelings ring true and something _else_ goes wrong. What if her feelings right _now_ are misguided? She can grudgingly admit at this point that she doesn’t have the best track record with gauging her own feelings and making solid decisions based upon them. If she rushes into pursuing something, only to realize that she wants something different, it might actually break Quinn.

It could shatter their relationship irreparably.

Naomi says that it’s unfair to Quinn to keep this from her when Quinn has had feelings for Rachel for so long. But wouldn’t it be far worse to tell her, only to realize she wants something different?

She has feelings for Quinn, yes. She recognizes that now, and probably should have realized it a while ago. But muddled feelings and the urge to be closer don’t necessarily equal a romantic relationship.

She can’t exactly walk up to Quinn and say, “I’ve realized that I have feelings for you, but I have no idea what I want to do about it.”

She needs a plan. She needs to know what she wants before she shares any of this with Quinn. Because saying she wants _more_ , without a solid idea of what _more_ actually means for her, will make things so much more complicated. The last thing she needs to do is mess with Quinn’s emotions and cause her more hurt.  

So she’s keeping this to herself. She’s not going to blindside Quinn until she’s adequately prepared for the potential fallout. 

For now, she’s going to focus on the fact that she gets to see her dads today and she gets to see her best friend tomorrow. She’s going to focus on this upcoming Tuesday, when she’ll be turning eighteen years old. She’s going to focus on the opportunity to reconnect with friends.

She’s going to focus on everything else, and hope that clarity about her current predicament will present itself somewhere along the way.

It might not be the best plan, but it’s the one that scares her the least.

** XXxxXX **

The first thing she notices when she gets off the plane is that everything feels _slower_ somehow. Ohio might be farther east than a lot of states, but it’s definitely different from the east coast. There’s a distinct difference that feels much stronger now that she’s been living in New York for several months.

But it’s home, and there’s a unique comfort in that. New York may be where she was meant to end up, but Ohio is where she came from, and she’s glad to be able to reconnect with this place. Just because she was ready to move on from Lima doesn’t mean she wants to permanently leave it behind.

She wheels her small carry-on suitcase past the security checkpoint, and then her fathers are there, smiling widely as they catch sight of her amongst the other travellers. She barely keeps herself from squealing once she sees them, and instead she jogs forward quickly and launches herself into her dad’s arms.

She hears her daddy laugh beside them as her dad wraps his arms around her and says, “welcome home, sweetheart,” in that soothing voice of his. 

Then her daddy adds, “Not quite home, since we’re in Dayton, but the sentiment still stands,” as he gives her a hug. “It’s so nice to have you back here with us.”

She walks between them while they head towards luggage claim and banter back and forth about what’s going on Lima these days. Conversation flows easily and soon they’re all laughing and there’s an arm wrapped around her shoulder. Her daddy is right-

It’s good to be back. 

** XXxxXX **

Her bedroom looks the same, with the exception of a few boxes of stuff near her desk that she packed but ultimately decided not to bring to New York. The room is still the same bright yellow, and it seems brighter than ever after living in a dull dorm room for three and a half months. Sure, she brought some of her posters to school, but it’s just not the same.

It’s strange. Because it feels like her room, but all of the things that made it truly hers are the things she brought to New York. The _Wicked_ poster hangs above their mini fridge in the dorm now, and the collection of photos that used to scatter her room are now tacked across the bulletin board atop her desk at school. Her room is an accurate reflection of her life now, where the foundation was left in Lima, but the core parts of who she is moved to New York. 

She hears someone enter the room behind her and turns to see her dad leaning against the doorway.

“How does it feel to be home?”

“Weird,” she admits, trailing her fingers along the fabric of her bedspread. “Like it’s familiar, but very different somehow.”

Her dad smiles and steps into the room. “I remember the first time I came home from college.”

“Did it feel like this?”

“Not at all,” he answers, and Rachel frowns. “I was very homesick my first semester of college,” he adds in explanation. “When I came home, I felt this rush, like there was so much I had missed. My room felt like a safe haven that I didn’t want to give up again.”

“I still missed it,” Rachel assures, because she doesn’t want her parents to think that she didn’t miss home at all. 

“I know you did,” he smiles. “But you missed it in a different way. It’s just the nostalgia and familiarity of it for you, isn’t it?”

She nods her head and sits down on the edge of her bed. “I love living in New York City,” she admits, like a guilty confession. Her dad laughs and sits down beside her.

“I would’ve never guessed,” he jokes, and Rachel shoves at his shoulder lightly. “That’s why your daddy and I fully supported your decision to go out of state. Of course we’ve missed you, but you love New York and you seem really happy.”

“I am. Also still a little lost, but I hear that’s quite common among college students.”

Her dad chuckles and stands up, leading her out of her bedroom towards the kitchen.

“Honey, it’s really common among _adults_.”

** XXxxXX **

The next morning, she agrees to go to the grocery store with her daddy, mainly because she knows they’ll pass McKinley High on the way. She can’t really explain her desire to see the high school. It’s not like she expects it to look any different. But when their car turns the corner and reaches the stop sign near the football field, she makes her daddy pull the car into the parking lot for a minute.

He sits patiently while she stares at the main entrance of the building for a few seconds before she speaks.

“Is it weird that I don’t miss it? Because I…I feel content. I don’t regret that I moved on and lost touch with most people. And maybe that’s bad, but-“

“That’s just how life works sometimes. People come and go. It doesn’t necessarily mean you like them any less. It’s just that you transitioned to a different stage in your life, and relationships don’t always make it through those transitions.”

Rachel feels the twinge of guilt in her chest begin to leave, and she turns to look at him.

“I’ve only talked to Quinn, and occasionally Santana. I see basic stuff on Facebook from other people, but besides that…”

Her dad inclines his head back towards the road, and she nods, letting him continue on to the grocery store.

“It’s not that surprising. Even this past summer, that’s who you spent most of your with. You and Quinn became much closer, and she was already good friends with Santana and Brittany.”

Memories of last summer flash through her mind, when she hung out alone with the three most popular girls in school for the first time and realized how completely _normal_ they were. 

Quinn would try to show Santana new music and Santana would roll her eyes and tell her to “put on some Rihanna, or something” and then Brittany would jump in the pool, just to interrupt their tanning and music bickering. 

Of all the people that she expected to be friends with beyond high school, those three were the least likely. 

“Well Kurt successfully avoided me, and I successfully avoided Finn, so I relied on Quinn more.”

There’s an awkward pause before her daddy answers her, and he glances over quickly before speaking.

“What exactly have you heard about Finn?”

Rachel furrows her eyebrows and turns to look at her dad once they reach the parking lot of the grocery store.

“Very little. I blocked him on Facebook, and Kurt blocked me, so I haven’t heard anything really. You told me at Thanksgiving that he was back in Lima, but then dad changed the subject. Why, what’s going on?”

They exit the car together and he takes a slow breath before answering. “Yes, he’s still in Lima. I want you to know so that you’re not totally surprised if you run into him. And maybe it can be a chance to get some final closure.”

Rachel shakes her head, pushing her hands into her coat pockets as they approach the entrance to the store.

“Why is he still here? Did he decide not to join the army? I should have known…”

“He did, but…” her daddy pauses, resting his hand on Rachel’s shoulder and making her stop for a second. “It was Burt. He stayed here because of Burt, Rachel. Right before he went to enlist, Burt started having some heart problems again. Finn decided to stay, and he’s been working at the tire shop.”

Despite everything that happened with both Kurt and Finn, she’d never wish a situation like that on them. She can’t even imagine how she would deal with it if one of her dads had a serious health problem. 

“How is Burt doing now?”

“Stable, but not great. He didn’t have another heart attack or anything, but the doctors say he’s at a high risk level right now. Anyway, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, but I wanted you to know.”

She nods and moves forward to grab a grocery cart for them. The thought of seeing Finn right now is, quite frankly, exhausting. They barely spoke to each other once she broke up with him shortly after prom. She got accepted to NYADA, and suddenly the ring on her finger felt more like a weight dragging her down and less like a support system holding her up. She _wanted_ to picture Finn in New York, but she couldn’t. The two just didn’t go together. 

It’s like what her dad was just talking about with relationships and transitions. She thought Finn would be someone who automatically transitioned with her, but he just wasn’t meant to be that person. 

“I…thank you for telling me.”

Maybe if she’s lucky, she won’t have to deal with this over break. But then again, maybe final closure is really what she needs, even if she hadn’t realized it. 

** XXxxXX **

Later that afternoon, she’s unpacking her suitcase when her phone rings with an unknown caller. She lifts her phone, not recognizing the area code, and accepts the call. 

“Rachel Berry speaking,” she greets, sitting down on her bed.

“Hi, Rachel. It’s Rose Thompson. Heejin gave me your cell number. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to contact you until now about your musical.”

She sits up a little straighter in surprise, holding the phone closer to her ear.

“Oh, hi Rose! It’s alright. I know that finals time is very taxing for seniors especially. That’s why I was surprised that Heejin even wanted to show you my assignment.”

It’s true. She trusted Heejin’s judgment, but she had no idea why she sought out Rose. Seniors are notoriously busy that time of year.

“I’ll admit there may have been an ulterior motive to me reading your play,” she says warmly, in a way that puts her at ease even as her curiosity is piqued. “My boyfriend Derek is in the comedy troupe with Heejin. I’m always at the events, which is how we know each other. Anyway, pretty much anyone who is even an acquaintance of mine knows that I’ve been looking for a piece to do for senior showcase this spring.”

“Showcase?” Rachel questions, eyes widening.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about it. It’s basically NYADA’s version of a capstone project. There’s been several options, but none of them have really spoken to me. But then Heejin calls me and says she has the perfect musical, and of course I was curious.”

“Wait, let me make sure I’m hearing you correctly. Because sometimes I get really excited and then start jumping to conclusions. Are you saying that you want to perform my musical for your senior showcase?”

She can’t really wrap her brain around it, but that seems to be the only logical conclusion. A NYADA senior in her musical theater program wants to perform _her_ musical for senior showcase. 

“That’s what I’m saying. Your story is so different from anything else I’ve read. With your permission, I want to show it to my good friend Jenna. We were planning on working together for showcase and your play is kind of perfect because we could play the main roles and then cast the other minor parts and the ensemble. But hold on, I’m jumping way ahead of myself,” she laughs, taking a measured breath. “Is this something you’d even consider? We’d have to meet up with you to really hear your full perspective on the story, since there’s still some things that aren’t clear. But are you open to the possibility of it being performed?”

Her mind is reeling and she stands up from her bed, walking in imprecise loops around her room. The pads of her feet press into the carpet and she thinks about the opportunity to see her story brought to life on a stage. A part of her wants to say absolutely _yes_ , but then she thinks about what it would be like if they misrepresented her story. It’s not just a story- it’s her _life_ and she needs them to treat this play with extreme care. Not to mention Quinn, who was nervous about someone just _reading_ her musical.

“I…I’m not sure. I mean, it’s really exciting and you have no idea how flattering this is. But I at least have to talk to Quinn about this first.”

“Quinn?”

It takes her a second to realize that Rose might not even know her musical is autobiographical. 

“You know her as Monica.”

There’s a long pause and then-

“…woah. This is a true story then?”

“The only thing that I really changed was our names.”

“So you’re…”

Rachel nods her head even though Rose can’t actually see her. “I’m Lily.”

“I knew something about this felt very personal. I had no idea it was _that_ personal though.”

“I’m seeing Quinn tonight, so I’ll try talking to her about it soon. You should probably have a Plan B though, because I really don’t know if she’d ever agree to this.”

Quinn is probably going to freak out, and she knows the chances that Quinn will actually agree to this are slim. This story is intensely personal, and she doubts Quinn is ready to share it with the world. It even scares _her_ a little, so she can’t imagine how her best friend would feel.

“I understand,” Rose assures. “But…” she pauses, and for a moment Rachel wonders if the call cut out. “I’m so curious because it’s a pretty open ending- do the girls end up together eventually?”

She inhales a sharp breath, trying to decide how she should answer this. It’s not like she owes Rose anything.

“They become best friends,” Rachel eventually answers. “The rest is still…this might sound incredibly cliché, but the rest is kind of unwritten right now. In our actual lives. The story isn’t there yet.”

“Oh?”

She can tell that Rose is curious, but doesn’t know Rachel enough to feel comfortable asking more. That’s a good thing, since she has no idea what she would even say at this point. 

“Yeah... When’s your deadline? Because Quinn will probably say no the first time but she may decide to think about it.”

“The Friday after we start the second semester. So maybe let me know for sure one way or the other in a couple of weeks?”

“I will. I’ll talk to you soon, Rose.”

“Thanks, Rachel. Bye!”

She sets her phone down on her nightstand once she ends the call, and then she’s just standing there in her old bedroom, trying to figure out how she feels about the possibility of seeing her musical come to life on stage.

Like everything else these days, the feelings mix together, tangling in frustrating knots that won’t untie. 

** XXxxXX **

Quinn’s flight gets in a three o’clock, but then they have to drive home and she knows that Quinn will have to spend time with her family before she can come over. She received a text shortly after Quinn landed that said- 

_ Just got to Ohio. See you in a little while when I can get out of the house. :) _

But it’s barely after six and the doorbell is ringing and she practically sprints towards the front door. Quinn is standing on her porch in a charcoal grey peacoat and matching earmuffs, smiling widely and teeth chattering just a little.

“You’re here!” she squeals, launching herself at her best friend and completely ignoring the cold and her bare feet. Quinn laughs against her ear and stumbles back a couple of steps, steadying Rachel by wrapping her arms around her back. 

“Rach, you’re gonna get pneumonia out here,” she warns, just to freak Rachel out and get her to go inside.

“Not funny,” Rachel pouts once she’s safely indoors again. Quinn shuts the door behind them and hangs her coat on the hook, revealing the deep purple sweater and jeans that she’s wearing. 

It hits her, suddenly, that she is in the same room with Quinn, who has no idea just how much things have changed in the past few days. Okay, maybe changed is the wrong word. More like how many things are apparent now that weren’t before. 

Like how she’s aware that Quinn looks beautiful right now, and that she’s suddenly nervous to be standing next to her even though she was just hugging the girl uninhibited. She’s the kind of nervous where her whole body feels jittery and her pulse seems like it’s racing way faster than it should be.

“What?” Quinn asks self-consciously, glancing down at herself when Rachel continues to look at her.

“Nothing,” Rachel replies quickly, stepping forward a little. “I’m so glad you’re here. Was your flight and everything okay?”

“My flight was fine. It was everything after that sucked, but I was pretty much expecting it, so…”

Quinn shrugs her shoulder, like she’s okay with the fact that she hates being home again. 

“Is the family stuff already bad?” Rachel frowns. 

“More like really tense. I think my mom is afraid that I’m going to come out to my dad sometime over break. She kept looking between the two of us like she was waiting for everything to come crashing down. Please. As if I’d ever be that stupid,” Quinn rolls her eyes, masking the genuine fear at the thought of her dad knowing about her sexuality. “But mom is tense, which makes my dad tense even if he doesn’t know what’s going on. And we don’t have Frannie here to help balance it out because she doesn’t get here until next week.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, even though she knows it won’t change anything.

“Don’t be,” Quinn assures, meeting her eyes and setting off those jitters again. “Especially since I’ll be taking up space in your house as much as I can to avoid them.”

Rachel’s about to say something about how Quinn would never just be _taking up space_ , but then her dads are entering the foyer and smiling at the both of them.

“Quinn, it’s wonderful to see you!” her daddy greets, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment. 

“Hi, Mr. Berry,” she replies politely, ducking her head down a little in sudden shyness before meeting his eyes.

“ _Mr. Berry_. Really, Quinn?” her daddy answers, almost like he’s offended. 

Rachel and her dad both laugh and Quinn blushes slightly.

“I was raised to always formally address other adults,” she defends, while her daddy continues to arch his eyebrows at her. “Hi, Hiram.”

“There we go.” He pats her shoulder, winking as he steps back. 

“I have, umm, something to give Rachel for the last day of Hanukkah. I hope I’m not interrupting anything right now…”

“Not at all,” her dad answers. “We’re just finishing up making dinner and then we were going to do a couple of things for the holiday after we eat. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like. We’ve got plenty of food.”

Quinn glances shyly over at Rachel, and she nods her head to assure Quinn that it’s really okay.

“I’d love to. But I actually have to be back at my house by seven to eat dinner with my family. I managed to sneak away for a little bit, but they’re expecting me back soon.”

“Alright,” he concedes. “But feel free to stop by any time while you’re home, Quinn.”

“Thanks,” she answers kindly, and Rachel inclines her head towards the stairs.

“Want to go up to my room?”

Quinn smiles and nods, and Rachel turns toward the stairs so that she doesn’t end up awkwardly staring at Quinn again. 

Quinn does a slow turn once they’re in her room, taking in her surroundings. There’s a faint smile playing at her lips, not obvious but definitely there.

“I think I missed this room more than my own,” she confesses, finally looking at Rachel fully. Their eyes meet and Quinn’s smile widens, lighting up her face as she shrugs her shoulders. “Which is probably a sad commentary on my own home, but…” she adds, letting the sentence hang unfinished.

“Well you did spend a lot of time here over the summer.” 

She walks towards her bed and sits down, watching while Quinn steps over and joins her. The palm of her hand is resting on the comforter, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress, and Quinn’s hand is pressed against the bed right next to hers. If she shifted her left hand a couple of inches, their pinkies would be touching. She feels ridiculous for craving such minimal contact.

“I still don’t understand why your dads are so nice to me. They should hate me,” Quinn says quietly, staring down at the carpet.

“Like I should hate you?” Rachel challenges, and Quinn lifts her eyes.

“What-”

“Quinn, we’ve talked about this. My dads don’t know everything that happened in high school. But they’ve moved past the stuff that they know about. Every time that you show up here, smiling and being polite and proving that you’re a good friend, the less they think about who you used to be. They don’t have a reason to hate you anymore than I do.”

Quinn shakes her head, body shifting a little, and suddenly the gap that Rachel was so eager to eliminate is gone and their hands are barely brushing against each other. 

“But they can’t just ignore everything that happened in the past,” she defends, and now Rachel wonders if they’re still only talking about her fathers right now.

“There’s…” Rachel begins slowly, choosing her words with care. “There’s a difference between blindly forgiving and forgiving with purpose. It’s not like they were automatically nice and welcoming to you. I’m sure you remember how awkward it was at first. You had to prove you weren’t going to intentionally hurt me again and you did, all those times you were at my house and my parents saw how happy I was. For a while I thought that Kurt and I had a great friendship, but I realize now that you…you were my first best friend, Quinn. My parents could never hate you for that.”

Hazel eyes are shining when they meet hers and Rachel grasps Quinn’s hand, squeezing just once. Sometime soon she imagines that she and Quinn will finally get their past fully out in the open, once and for all. But Quinn has to be home soon and she doesn’t want to upset her right now.

So instead, she looks over at Quinn’s purse that she set down on the desk and nudges her hand.

“So either my last Hanukkah present is really small, or it’s invisible,” she says and Quinn laughs.

“It’s in my purse. Hang on, let me get it out.” Quinn gets up from the bed, and Rachel regrets the loss of contact. But then Quinn is walking back over with a small box in her hand, wrapped in blue paper.

It looks suspiciously like a jewelry box and now she’s worried that Quinn spent too much money on her. 

“Okay, before you open it, I just want to say that…it’s your birthday present too. I decided to get something nicer and just combine the gifts, since your birthday is in two days.”

Rachel delicately tears through the paper to reveal what is in fact a jewelry box. She glances at Quinn once, sees the nervous energy in her eyes, and then lifts the lid. Inside is a small necklace, a thin gold chain holding a small star pendant. The star itself is barely the size of a dime, but manages to fit a small Hebrew inscription. 

“It says-”

“Rachel,” they say at the same time, and she looks up to meet Quinn’s eyes.

“Quinn, this is…it’s beautiful, and kind of _perfect_. But you…it’s…”

How does she even communicate that this feels like way too much? Not just because of how much she probably spent on it, but because her best friend just gave her a gorgeous necklace for her birthday and sort of Hanukkah, and the lines are blurring once again. The lines of what they can do under the pretense of friendship.

“ _Please_ don’t feel uncomfortable about this. I wanted to get you something nice for your birthday, which is part of the reason why most of the Hanukkah gifts were inexpensive or homemade. Please don’t be upset.”

Quinn sounds so nervous that it’s almost endearing, and she reaches forward to rest a steadying hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“There’s no way I could be upset when someone did something this thoughtful for me, Quinn. A little overwhelmed and slightly worried that you spent too much money on me, but not upset,” she assures, and Quinn relaxes a little. 

“ So you like it?” Quinn asks shyly, and Rachel has to bite down on her lip to contain her reaction because it’s really not fair that her best friend is being this adorable right now.

“I _love_ it,” she answers, still holding the box when she reaches her arms out to pull Quinn into a hug. Quinn’s arms wrap around her waist, and then somehow this feels different than it ever has before. The arms holding her are the same gentle steady weight, but she has to fight off the urge to burrow closer, to tilt her head so that it’s resting against Quinn’s shoulder and press a soft kiss against her neck. 

It’s all the desires that have been dormant before, now at the surface and making themselves known. The realization that she has no idea what to do with them kind of freaks her out, and Quinn is pulling away from her, completely unaware that she’s actually thinking about what it would be like to act on impulse and kiss her right now.

She allows herself to glance at soft pink lips just once before giving a shaky smile and turning her back to Quinn.

“Can you help me put it on?” she asks, holding out the necklace and trying to steady her breathing. 

“Sure.”

Quinn takes the box from her hands, and she’s just standing there for a moment while Quinn unhooks the clasp before she feels the thin chain being looped around her. The metal is cool against her skin, but it’s the brush of Quinn’s fingertips against her that causes the goose bumps. She feels her fumbling with the clasp and then Quinn pauses.

“I need you to lift your hair up. I can’t get the clasp otherwise,” she explains, and Rachel shifts her left arm to hold her hair up on her head. Then fingertips are touching bare skin at the nape of her neck, and _surely_ Quinn must be able to notice the goose bumps at this point. She doesn’t understand how it’s possible that such a simple touch is setting her off like this, and before she has anytime to process it Quinn is done.

“There,” she says proudly, stepping around to face Rachel and see the necklace. “Oh, good, the chain is the right length.” Quinn gives her an easy smile and it’s impossible not to smile back.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Happy Hanukkah. And happy almost birthday.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, but then Quinn is laughing all of a sudden and she has no idea why.

“Speaking of your birthday, I’m supposed to make sure I don’t tell you that some of the glee club gang is throwing you a surprise party on Tuesday,” she smiles, and Rachel’s eyes widen. “But I know how you feel about surprise parties, and I tried to tell them it wasn’t a good idea. So instead I’m warning you so you don’t freak out.”

“Don’t they know I need at least forty eight hours to adequately prepare for major social gatherings, especially ones where I am the focus?” she huffs, and Quinn laughs again.

“Yes, but they didn’t believe me when they were coordinating it on Facebook. So…surprise! Don’t tell them I ruined it for you.”

“I’ll be sure to practice my appropriate surprised faces ahead of time. What should I wear to a party that I’m not supposed to know about but still want to look good at?”

The fact that Quinn knows it’s a legitimate question makes her love the girl that much more. 


End file.
